Observer Effect
by Ramabear
Summary: Tony closes his eyes in Siberia, not ready to die but left with no other choice. Then he wakes up in the hot desert of Afghanistan, stranded after his escape from the cave and with all the memories of the past several years. Since he has to do it over again, he's going to really Do It Over Again. Character Death Warning: No Tony Ships
1. Chapter 1

For the first time in his life, Tony feels his mind begin to slow down.

Oh sure, he's had plenty of moments where his mind has become fuzzy with alcohol or sleep deprivation, and there was the occasional time where drugs had thrown his head for a loop-de-loop and staring at the wall gave him a pleasant sort of static feeling between the ears, not to mention there have been the times he's been concussed, knocked out, strangled nearly unconscious and under anesthetic, but that was never accompanied by slow thoughts. Now, though, now Tony knows what it's like, to slow down.

He can't say he likes it very much.

Worse still, he doesn't think he can stop it, either.

The suit's been dead for a while now, the last of its light and life flickering when the sharp edge of that damn shield bit into his chest again and again and _again_ and _again._

 _When I get out of here,_ Tony promises himself, his thoughts slow, his eyelids slower as he opens them to stare across the bare concrete at the slightly convex form of the vibranium shield, _I will melt it down and make it into the base of a snow globe. Put a small collapsed Iron Man in the bottom and fill it with red snow. Thanks for visiting Siberia! Come back soon!_

He'd laugh, but his breath is too shallow to catch and the last thing he tasted before his tongue became too cold to taste was blood. His breath, when he does manage to gather it, makes something bubble. Tony wonders when his ears will be too cold to hear, or if, like in the Princess Bride, the frost will take his ears and nose and lips and eyes but leave him able to hear, able to hear the horror that will, inevitably, make his rescuers exclaim aloud. He thinks he'd hate to hear that sound, but that's a lie.

Anything would be nice to hear if it wasn't bubbling and the howling wind.

 _Insulation,_ Tony mouths the word and swears his fingers twitch as he stares ahead. His eyes are so cold and so dry but if he closes them, then he'll fall asleep. He can't fall asleep. Not yet. He's working. The air in front of him is filled with bleak concrete and a white wall of wind-whipped snow and Tony can see the blue of his holograms in the air. He's modifying his suit, ticking off all the things that could make it better, could make this survivable.

Insulation against extreme temperatures that doesn't rely on power to function. Back up energy, hidden somewhere instead of a big ass target on his chest. Magnetic release catches that only flip when the suit is depowered. Maybe a secret snack compartment, or a flask, because he's real sure that he's real hungry. Or at least he should be, if the cold wasn't such a problem.

 _Focus,_ Tony tells himself. He can't let his mind wander. He has to fix his suit so that the next time he goes and plays in a snowstorm and gets his ass kicked and his chest through a grinder, he won't come so close to dying.

Back up oxygen; maybe a specific suit that was air-tight. Smaller jets for more careful maneuverability in zero-gravity. A distress beacon, a really, really powerful one, just in case.

 _No, wait,_ Tony's brow furrows. He hears something crinkle. He holds his breath. It doesn't continue so he relaxes.

Now.

What was he thinking about?

Right.

Fixing the suit.

Insulation was a must, he had to be more careful of extreme temperatures. Backup battery, not one that would explode painfully when punctured, either.

Tony's eyes are fixated, straight ahead. He can't see anything, but that's okay. He doesn't need to see to plan his building. Seeing will come later.

Tony's pared his final regrets down to three. Which, considering all the fucking mistakes he's made in his life, he's pretty proud of narrowing it down to so few. He's regretted so much in his life that the slide-show of Tony Stark's Life has at least ten compilation segments of his top one hundred biggest regrets of his existence. Not to say that it was all regrets. He had some good moments too. He had the bots he'd made and there had been Jarvis and JARVIS and the first time he'd flown in the suit, the taste of freedom and the taste of Pepper's kisses, and the choice to get out of the arms race- no he had lots of things he didn't regret. And he could let go of ninety-nine percent of his regrets, here and now, if only he could do something about the three that he still had.

Tony sighed, air bubbling out of the back of his throat with the thick blood that he feels building there. He can't cough so most of it slides back down his throat, filling his lungs up. At least, that's what he figures he did. It's not like he bothered to get a medical degree along with the rest of his degrees. The mystery of the human body was someone else's to discover. Tony liked his machines. Machines didn't crush his chest on purpose. Machines had only ever done exactly as he wanted and needed them to.

He hoped they would understand, that they would be okay. FRIDAY would take care of them, no, they would take care of each other. And Pepper. And Rhodes. They'd watch out for each other. Tony trusted them to do that.

Tony's blind eyes moistened slightly, but before the tear could overflow from his eyelid, it froze.

He didn't even notice. He couldn't feel it anyway.

 _Pepper is going to be so mad,_ Tony thought, distracted, tired, his thoughts slow. _So mad. So, so mad._

 _Always telling me to rest,_ Tony thought, staring at nothing, staring at the whiteness in front of his blind eyes. _Rest, Tony, rest! Always telling me…_

 _Not like this,_ Tony thought, he couldn't hear himself breathing anymore. Had his ears finally frozen too? _Didn't want me to rest like this._

 _Pepper is going to be so mad,_ Tony thought. But he was so cold. He was so tired. And Pepper was right.

He needed to rest.

* * *

 _Hot._

Tony's foot slips on something. His knee buckles and he hits the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Sand and grit get into his mouth as he rolls over. He grunts, spits, wipes at his mouth and then sits up.

It's blindingly hot. Tony squints against the sun, directly overhead, and at the dunes around himself. The sky is a blue so bright it hurts his eyes. The sand reflects the sunlight and every glint of metal spread out across the area screams into his retinas. Tony almost rubs at his eyes with his hands but stops himself when he sees how absolutely filthy they are.

The faint blue glow of on his forearms, as he stares at his hands, tells him everything he needs to know about where he is and what is happening.

 _Afghanistan,_ he thinks, his mind whirring faster and faster as he looks down at his chest, down at the first edition arc reactor glowing a faint blue right smack in the middle of his ribcage. His clothing is nearly threadbare; it looks like he's worn mostly the same thing for three months and, if Tony's memory of this particularly world-view shattering event is correct, he has been.

Tony staggers to his feet, turning in a circle. First thing was first. He needed to orientate himself and then-

His foot slides and his shin comes into contact with metal. He hisses, pulls back and looks down to see a piece of metal, cut and welded into a piece of armor. Part of the first Iron Man, before Iron Man even existed. Tony looks around, and now that he's searching for it, he can see pieces scattered all around. Hissing, he pulls off his shirt. He'll be blistered and burnt by the time he's out of here but Tony doesn't care.

He'll get out of here in one piece and that makes all the difference in the world.

 _Fuck you, Siberia,_ he thinks to the winter wind that howls in his mind.

* * *

By the time Rhodes finds him, Tony is blistering across the shoulders and feet, but he's still walking. He's left a winding trail in the sand, two feet and one dragging line. Part of his shirt became a rope that he tied to the salvaged chest plate and the other part he wrapped around his head, for what little that could do for him. The chest piece is piled high with other bits and pieces of his broken armor and he thinks, he's not certain, won't be until he gets home to his lab, but he thinks that he's got most of the armor now.

Rhodes and a company of soldiers find him walking along the crest of a dune, lips dry, skin red, eyes half open. Walking in the desert, Tony finds, is just like falling asleep in sub-zero temperature, after a while, everything hurts to a point of numbness and then, as the numbness sets in, nothing hurts.

Until you stop moving.

Tony stands still for a moment, looking down at the vehicle and the men walking towards him. His eyes are on Rhodes, walking up towards him a half step faster than the others. No, not running because that would be too much, but quick. He's hustling up the dune and Tony only has eyes for him.

Rhodey's walking.

Tony feels a weight lift off of his chest. He takes a step forward. His leg cramps and he slips. With a yelp, he slides halfway down the dune, scrap metal tumbling after him. Rhodes catches him, pulls him out of the way of the shrapnel, and holds his arms tightly. Tony's not sure if Rhodes is only doing it because he needs to or because Tony will fall over without his help. It's probably both, though. Rhodes cares.

"Tony," Rhodes says and Tony cuts him off with a grin.

"Did you find my sunglasses?" Tony asks. He grips Rhodes by the shoulders, fingers tight. Rhodes is alive. He is walking. They're both out in the baking heat. Tony makes a show of looking around them while Rhodes stares at him like he's a maniac. "I lost them somewhere," Tony says, "And I've got to say my eyes are killing me."

"Tony," Rhodes says and this time he sounds less marveled at the very sight of him and more exasperated, more disbelieving. "Who gives a fuck about the sunglasses, man? Are you okay? What the hell happened to you? Come on, we need to get you out of the sun before your skin starts boiling off." He tugs on Tony's arms and Tony follows willingly.

Tony laughs, he can't really help it. Rhodes is walking. Everything is fine. Except his eyes hurt. They hurt so _much._ He needs his sunglasses and, "Hey! That's Stark property you're poking at there!" He shouts to the soldier poking at the pile of scrap. Tugging on Rhodes's collar, Tony tries to direct him towards the pile. "I need that boxed up and taken back to the states with me. Rhody, sugar bear, be a sweet and make sure they don't lose my shit, will you? I tracked across the desert for that and I'm not about to go home without it."

Rhodes's giving him that look of disbelief and Tony grins at him. Something he sees in Tony's face makes him let go of one arm and turn to the soldier. He tells them to box it up and they do so, Tony watching as they bring it over to the vehicle. Rhodes helps him over to it, the cramp in his leg has eased up, and Tony's trying not to laugh. Here he is, limping along with Rhodes supporting him, just like it should be.

Tony will die before he lets Rhodes take a hit like that again, not when Tony's there to protect him.

In the shade of the car, Tony drinks a bottle of water and offers a high five to the private who offers their sunglasses to him. The tinted lenses ease the pain of his eyes enough that Tony sighs and, making sure that they've got his scrap goods, he finally gets into the car.

Tony leans back, not caring much for the way his back complains with each bump of the vehicle making his sunburnt skin brush against the seat. His mind is whirring too fast, clipping along the different paths as he sits and enjoys the ride.

He's already changed this world. He went back for his armor. He didn't do that last time.

Tony fiddles with the water bottle in his hands. The plastic crinkles as he twists it, but he stops before the lid pops off. Rhodes looks at him, frowning slightly. Tony looks at him and gives him a smile. He's looked at the electron and it's changed its behavior. There's no reason to stop now.

"Hey, Rhodey?" Tony asks, "Got a phone you could let me borrow? I need to call Pepper."

* * *

Pepper stands beside the sleek black car with Happy. They're both silent. They're both waiting.

It seems to take an eon before either one of them spot the jet on the horizon. The sleek shape of it becomes larger and larger as it approaches. Pepper's never been so glad to hear the whine and thunder of its engine and she blinks furiously to keep the tears out of her eyes.

The tires of the jet squeal and scream as rubber hits tarmac, then the jet smooths out its landing and slows down. Flaps shifting and wings adjusting, the jet taxis around the strip, slowing down until it comes to a stop in front of them.

Pepper is frozen, heart in her throat, breath caught in her lungs. Happy takes the first step forward, then another, then stops.

The door opens.

Rhodes steps out first, adjusting his cap on his head, and taking a few steps out. Then he turns and looks back.

Tony steps out of the jet and Pepper just wants to cry. He looks red and even from thirty feet away she can see his face is bruised and he's limping a little. He's wearing his normal clothes, a t-shirt and jeans with a blazer thrown over his shoulders, but there's an unnatural thinness to him that Pepper picks up on immediately. The other oddity is the faint circle of blue light coming from the center of his chest. Pepper does not like that at all and knows instinctively she'll dislike the explanation for it even more.

Rhodes walks Tony down the stairs and towards them. Tony limps but doesn't seem to wince in pain with each step. He's wearing sunglasses despite the fact that it's nearly evening. Tony picks up his pace suddenly and hobbles towards them, "Pepper! Happy!"

Pepper is in Tony's arms before she can even think about it. He smells clean, like antiseptic and lemongrass and aloe, and his grip on her shoulder is tight. The hug is brief, too brief, and then he's hugging Happy, who has become red in the face and is refusing his tears by blinking rapidly. Tony steps back from them both and looks between the three of them. "My three closest friends," Tony says and there's a thickness in his voice that makes Pepper think he's just as overcome with emotion as they are. "What would I ever do without you three? Who would I be?"

"Mr. Stark," Pepper begins, but she doesn't know where to continue to. Tony's lowered his sunglasses and is looking at them with eyes that burn orange, bright and fiery, right around the normal brown of his iris. Pepper's eyes widen. _What happened to him? What did they do to him?_

"There's so much that I need to do, so much I need to take care of. The world's been without me for three whole months! Pepper, did you schedule that press meeting for tomorrow afternoon?"

"I- Yes," Pepper nods. She automatically hands over her tablet to him, showing him the venue. She always shows him, but he never really looks. This time, he takes the tablet, scrolls through the press briefing and nods. "But I- Mr. Stark, are you really ready to be questioned about your time in Afghanistan?"

Tony smiles, big and wide and Pepper swears she sees that orange ring in his eyes burn like a solar flare. He hands her back the tablet and says, "I'm sure there will be other more interesting things for them to ask me about. Now, Happy, let's get out of here, pick up some dinner and get home, hm? I have work to do."

He claps Happy on the shoulder and then walks past them all to the car. Happy hurries after him while Pepper turns slowly. Rhodes steps up at her side and she gives him a nervous look, "His eyes," she whispers, "Did you see them?"

He nods, "There's no explanation. The doctors looked him over and besides a few sprains, a sunburn to king all sunburns and some malnutrition and dehydration, he was pronounced fine. No changes to his eyesight. No blind spots. No crazy laser vision. Nothing."

"Rhodey, Pep!" Tony shouts from inside the car, "Hurry it up! It's burger time!"

Rhodes presses his hand to Pepper's back, urging her into motion. She stutters for a moment more, then shakes herself and hurries over to the car. The two of them pile in after Tony, who is looking at the mini-bar with the kind of fondness that makes Pepper uneasy. She can't blame him for wanting to get a drink after, well, everything, but still-

Tony closes the fridge with a sigh. He sits back and Pepper blinks at the bottle he's chosen. Tony pops open the purified water bottle and downs half of it with a gasp, "I don't think I'll ever take water for granted again," he says.

Pepper makes a note to add more water bottles to the cars and then bites the inside of her cheek.

Tony's changed and she can't tell if it's for the better or worse. Not yet anyway.

* * *

As soon as Tony steps into the door of his Malibu home, JARVIS can be heard through the speakers.

"Welcome home, Sir."

Tony stops in the hallway and has to close his eyes. The others are talking amongst themselves, already deeper into the house, and within moments the two of them are alone. Tony swallows. When he's sure that he can speak without a tremble, he replies, "Thank you, Jarvis. I'll be down in the lab soon to take care of some things. But first, burger time."

"I will make sure everything is ready for you, Sir," comes the reply and Tony smiles.

Happy's spread out the burgers on the table, the fries a big pile and plenty of dipping sauce available by the time Tony arrives. They look up at him and give him concerned smiles and Tony hasn't missed the way they look wonderingly at his eyes. Tony, for his part, drags out a chair, sits down and digs into his burger. The others follow suit.

Even Pepper is enjoying a burger, taking small bites in between ketchup dipped fries, but she's watching him as she does it, brows knitting together like she's working on a puzzle.

Tony leans back in his chair, drinking from his styrofoam cup, and sighs contentedly. "I plan to announce a big change for Stark Industries tomorrow, Pep," he says. She blinks and her attention is on him again. Or rather, she's present and listening to him now, instead of staring at him like he's a tough sudoku in the Sunday edition. "I want to tell you three but only because I know you'll need time to get ready _and_ you won't be likely to spill the beans on any of it."

"That doesn't sound good, Tony," Pepper says quietly, setting down her burger. She wipes her hands on her napkin and brings out her tablet, setting it down beside her on the table.

"What is it?" Rhodes says, leaning forward, elbows on the table and a dark, worried look in his eyes.

Happy says nothing, chewing industriously on his burger. Waiting.

"I'm taking Stark Industries out of weapons manufacturing," Tony says, "Completely. No guns. No bullets. No missiles. No tanks. None of it. Everything is going to be recalled, melted down and turned into something else. All the tech is going into a vault that I'm going to lose the key to and drop into the ocean, metaphorically of course. Stark Industries will no longer make anything that's sole purpose is to get people killed."

They stare at him, just as shocked here as they were there. He smiles, grabs a fry, dips it, eats it.

"What about all your employees?" Pepper says, "All their work and all their jobs-"

"Give the factory workers a month off while we switch things out," Tony says, "Pay them for it, of course. Everyone in tech will be reassigned to new research- clean water programs, clean energy research, armor tech, hell, if someone has an idea about how to save a life with something new, something that isn't some damn drug, have them write up a request and submit it and we'll greenlight it if it's possible."

"What about your contracts?" Rhodes asks, "Are you just going to renege them?"

"SI can no longer fulfill the promises of those contracts," Tony says, picking up his drink, "We'll have to terminate them."

"The stocks-" Pepper begins, then stops, "Our costs- Tony, the lawyers for this-"

"Are going to be hideously expensive, I know," Tony says. He's still smiling easily. Talking them through it is easier than he remembers, though he can't be quite sure he actually did talk it through with them last time.

"People won't be happy," Tony says, "But I'd rather a million pissed off people than half a million grieving ones. Pep, contact the lawyers, tell them what's up. But don't worry about Obie or the board until later."

"Tony, you've got to tell Obie," Pepper insists, even as her fingers tap across the screen of her tablet. "You can't make this kind of decision without telling him."

Tony smiles, "Pepper," he asks, and he knows already that his tone is too sweet, too wrong, because she immediately stops typing and looks at him with wary eyes. "Who the fuck do you think sold me out in Afghanistan?"

"Jesus," Rhodes whispers. He puts his hand over his face.

Happy blinks at him. "No," he says first, "Obadiah's bit of a tough guy and an asshole but he cares about you. He wouldn't."

Tony shrugs a shoulder, "I won't accuse him until I've got proof," he picks up the last of his burger and gestures with it, "But I suspect to have some by tomorrow afternoon. So no, I don't have to tell Obie anything. It's my company. It's my tech. It's my name. Stark Industries is no longer making any weapons. For anybody."

He pops the last bite into his mouth and then stands. They're still stunned, looking at him in disbelief, like he's about to say it all was a ruse and he was joking, but Tony doesn't joke about killing people, not anymore. Taking off his shades, borrowed from some nameless soldier in Afghanistan, Tony tosses them onto the table and then turns, "I've got some work to do. Remember, not a word. The world finds out tomorrow afternoon, two o'clock sharp, Pacific time, and not a moment before," he grins and walks away.

"Jarvis," Tony calls out as he heads to his lab, "I'm on my way."

The door slides open for him without a sound and Tony grins. So much work to do, so little time.

* * *

After Afghanistan, after _Siberia_ , the brightly lit, cluttered and isolated workshop is a luxury that Tony thinks he'll never take for granted again. This is where he belongs, behind his workbench, with JARVIS projecting on one holographic screen his current project, surrounded by tools and tech, and with a keyboard at his fingertips. The center screen is all code and Tony's eyes don't drift away for a moment.

He hears the whirr of DUM-E's motor and reaches out for the smoothie that the robot has made for him. It looks and smells suspiciously edible so he decides absently to enjoy it. He sips from it, typing one-handed, and then stops, highlights a line of code and says aloud, "Jarvis, test this line. I can't have any loopholes. Your baby sister has to be ironclad."

"Yes, Sir," and the third screen shows a replication of that line. JARVIS processes it, tests it, runs it through scenario after scenario, more than Tony can think of, more than he could do in the same amount of time. Tony would worry about a power bill, but he's already recreated a small arc-reactor that he'll install as the house's off-the-grid power source when he's got a moment.

Now, though, his attention is fully set on his newest AI.

"Sir, test complete. Here are suggestions to the code, in order to tighten its parameters and still allow access for interpretation," A pop up appears on the third screen. Tony's eyes switch to it, read over it and he nods.

With a twitch of his fingers, he says, "Add it in." JARVIS complies.

Tony falls back into silence as he works. JARVIS raises the music's volume and Tony lets the sound fill in the cracks around his thoughts. There is nothing but him and his work- no emergencies of any kind, supernatural or otherwise- and for the first time in what feels like years, Tony feels steady. Centered. Peaceful.

In another time, he would have been filled with the manic energy of creating the iron man suit for the first time, perfecting the thrusters, the adjustments, the calculations, the shape and form- but Tony's got all those old blueprints in his head already. Iron Man can wait; the Ten Rings aren't going anywhere and Tony wants to be sure Obie is out of the picture before the man knows what he's capable of.

Tony stops, fingers half an inch above the keys and he stares at the ceiling. "Cut one head off…" he murmurs. Obie might not be Hydra, but he's a cockroach. If all Tony does is swat him from his position of power, Obie will come back for him, nastier and nastier each time. Tony sighs and shakes his head.

He drags his hands through his hair. He pulls and gives a frustrated grunt. "Jarvis."

"Sir?"

"Open new project; code name Won't Do Nothing. Give yourself oversight but work it in as a subroutine on baby sister here. In it, find and list all methods of non-lethal removal; every way that you can get someone out of your life short of someone dying, and list it in order of most to least severe. I'll double check the severity level later." Tony nods to himself. That'll work to start with.

JARVIS makes some noise of acknowledgment while the screen displaying the reactor he'd built earlier fades and is replaced with a New Project screen. The list begins to populate itself and Tony, with a crack of his knuckles, gets back to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Obadiah approaches his office with a slight smile on his lips. His secretary straightens up at the sight of him and slides his coffee cup towards him as he draws near. "Leslie," he says with a smile, "Good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Stane," Leslie smiles back, "Your morning is clear of scheduled meetings. Also, Mr. Stark brought over a flash drive with some new tech idea of his. He said that he spent all night working on it." She places the slim silver drive next to his cup of coffee, on top of the morning files, bundled nicely in a small manila envelope.

Obadiah pauses next to Leslie's desk. He then gives her a charming smile, "Incredible. He just got back in the country last night. That boy just doesn't know when to rest," he picks up cup, drive and folder, tucking the folder under his arm as he turns the drive over in his fingers. It has no insignia on it, nothing at all to give it away, and he wonders what inspiration Afghanistan has given him.

Whatever it is, it might be worth him being alive a little longer to see it come to fruition…

"Send him my thanks, Leslie," Obadiah said as he heads to the door, "And tell him to get something to eat and to actually sleep. He's injured and he needs to rest."

"Yes sir," she replied cheerfully.

"And free up my evening, as well. I'll be going to check on him tonight."

"Of course, sir," she replied, turning to her computer.

Obadiah gives her another smile before stepping into his office. The lights respond to him walking in, lighting up gradually until they reach his ideal brightness. His blinds turn and open automatically too and Obadiah sighs at the sight through the windows. He tosses the folder down, places the cup carefully on a Stark Industries stock coaster and looks again at the silver drive. It's not even as long as his littlest finger, a tiny, slim little silver thing that is Stark all over it.

Obadiah sinks into his leather seat and boots up his computer. He taps in his password and then gropes his fingers under the edge of the monitor, looking for a free USB port. Finding one, he takes the cap off of the flash drive and slides it into place.

A pop-up appears, signaling that he has properly plugged in the drive and it looks normal. He chooses to open the drive to view the folders inside and then his computer buffers for a moment.

A window opens and inside of it is a single file folder.

 _Top Ten Movie Betrayals_

Obadiah stares at the folder. His hand rests, still and uncertain, on his mouse. He can see the details of the folder, can see that it's got something inside of it, but he has a sinking feeling about what he'll find inside.

Slowly, he drags the mouse over and clicks on the folder. It opens and inside are ten jpeg files. He clicks on the first one, the one labeled number ten, and his picture viewer loads the image.

It's a poorly edited photo of some movie Obadiah can barely remember, some screencap of a scene with bright lettering and Obadiah's uncertainty flips right into anger. He clicks on the second picture and it's of some fucking cartoon movie, at least as far as he can tell, and the anger builds as he realizes Tony's alleged new tech is a lie, a joke, and the little brat is messing with him.

Obadiah's fury grows as he clicks through each image and his hand is shaking by the time he gets to number one.

A second too late and he realizes that the image is actually a movie. It loads, buffers, and then begins to play.

Obadiah has seen this before. The men are familiar, even if he doesn't exactly know their names, and the way they shout, clutching their guns, gesturing aggressively, just adds further evidence to their words.

Obadiah pushes himself back, away from the computer. How did Tony- Did he come to his office? Did he hack in? How did he-

The film stop after ten or twenty seconds, just long enough for Obadiah to recognize it, just long enough for Tony to know he's recognized it. The video cuts to Tony, sitting in his workshop. His face is still sunburnt red and he's looking into the camera. Obadiah can see a faint glow through the middle of his sleeveless shirt, blue and circular and he has no idea what that is.

"Hey Obie," Tony says with an easy smile. His eyes look right into the camera. Obadiah stares at them, can't stop staring, because Tony's eyes are _glowing._ "Congratulations on coming in first place! I'm sorry I can't be there to give you your award in person, but I hope this can make up for it."

He flicks his fingers and something on a screen Obadiah can't see lights up. Tony taps a few keys and then, with a little flourish, presses his index finger down on, what Obadiah can only guess is the enter key. "There we go. Project Like A Father is complete. Hope you enjoy it, Obie!" Tony give the camera a thumbs up and then the video cuts out entirely.

"Shit," Obadiah curses. He lurches forward and scrambles for the USB. He has to get that out, it must have some sort of virus or something-

His fingers find the small thing and yank it out. His computer makes an unhappy beeping noise and the pictures he was looking out, the files he had open, suddenly shut. It's only then that he notices the progress bar in the center of the screen, hidden under all the files.

It's a grey box with a lighter grey indicator bar. The bar is at one hundred percent and the text right beneath it reads, _NOBODY IS HERE._ Obadiah curses again.

The lights in his office flicker. The blinds, which had opened automatically for him, begin to slide closed. Obadiah lurches to his feet. He has to get to Stark, has to stop him from- from whatever the hell it is he's done.

He rushes to the door, only to swing it open and nearly run into Leslie. She's standing there, wide-eyed and Obadiah sees that all the lights in the hallway are flickering irregularly. Leslie squeaks and steps back and from where he stands at the door, Obadiah can see that her computer screen has turned pitch black.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to bother you but the phone and computer system-"

"We're being hacked," Obadiah lies confidently. Well, it's not exactly a lie, is it? Tony can't get away with hacking his own company, not if Obadiah has anything to say about it. Leslie's eyes go wide and she covers her mouth with one hand, "That stick you got, was it really from Tony? How did it get here?"

"Mr. Stark dropped it off himself just before you got here," Leslie says, "he said was on his way over to his office and he stopped here first to leave it for you."

Obadiah brushes past her, "Stay here," he says, "As soon as the phones are back, get ahold of the IT and security department and have them both sent up here."

"Yes sir!" Leslie exclaims as he hurries down the hallway.

Tony's office isn't far away. If he can hurry, he can get there in time to-

Pepper isn't outside Tony's office like she generally would be at that time of the morning, so Obadiah can only assume she's inside. Grimly, he decides to go in anyway. If he has to, he can certainly use Potts to get to Tony. After all, Tony had always been soft on her. As he approaches, the door slides open automatically.

"Tony!" Obadiah shouts as he thunders into the room, "What is the meaning of-" He stops.

The room is pitch black.

The door automatically slides shut behind him and cast him completely into darkness. The computer monitor on the desk has been turned around to face the door and the screen flickers on.

White text appears in the top of the screen. Obadiah warily approaches it so he can read. As soon as his eyes pick up the word- _GOTCHA_. Obadiah spins around but he already hears the door lock.

"TONY!" Obadiah roars. He knows the bastard can hear him if not see him. His office is wired for security reasons and Obadiah can _feel_ himself being watched, "You better stop playing, son! This won't end well for you!"

The cursor on the screen moved down to the next line. A new line of text appeared.

 _NOBODY IS PLAYING._

"I don't know what you're thinking-" Obadiah says quieter now. He just has to hold out for security to bypass the door lock and then to let him out. Tony's clearly gone mad since his stay in Afghanistan. Obadiah can use all of this as an example of his mental instability, get him removed from the CEO position and sent to some institution- A nice one, of course, the best money can buy- Obadiah calms himself down with a couple of deep breaths and talks again, in a much more soothing voice. "But it isn't going to work out in your favor. You shouldn't hack into your own systems, Tony. And you're scaring people with your behavior. You need help."

The cursor moved down one more line.

 _ARE YOU SCARED?_

Obadiah coughs to clear his throat. "Well, Tony, you startled me with that video. Where did you get the actors for that on such short notice? Or did you film it before you got home?"

The cursor dropped down.

 _ARE YOU SCARED?_

"The flickering lights were a little startling as well," Obadiah says, his voice rising a little. This game is irritating. He wasn't _scared,_ he was just, well, concerned. Tony coming back was going to complicate things quite a lot. "And it would help you unlocked the door."

The cursor dropped.

 _ARE. YOU. SCARED?_

Obadiah took an angry step towards the computer. Besides it's faintly luminescent screen and the bright white text, there was no other light in the room. Not even from the windows, they were blacked out by the blinds, not even from the door, which was sealed shut. "Is that really all you want to know? Yes. I was scared. But now I'm angry, Tony. Angry because you're wasting my time and yours with this bullshit. You need help, Tony, and this isn't the way to get it."

The cursor dropped. It seemed to linger for a long time. Long enough that Obadiah took a step towards the computer. Maybe if he reached it he could reset it and break Tony's connection-

 _YOU ARE NOT SCARED ENOUGH._

 _NO ONE IS COMING TO GET YOU._

The screen went dark and Obadiah cursed again.

Then, ever so faintly, he heard something start to hiss.

By the time Obadiah tasted the chemicals in the air, all he could do was sink to his knees, hands reaching blindly for the floor for support as he swiftly lost consciousness.

* * *

The lights flash almost aggressively bright as Tony walks out onto the stage. He's wearing his shades so he's not instantly blinded and long years of practice guide him up to the podium from which he's prepared to speak. He comes to a stop and smiles out to the crowd. The flashes intensify for a moment and then abate as he greets the room.

"I have a short two-part statement to make," Tony says with an easy smile, "And then I'll have time for a few questions." He pulls open his jacket and pulls out two cards from his inner breast pocket. He taps them on the podium and then, without looking at either one, begins his statement.

"While I was in Afghanistan, demonstrating some Stark Tech Missiles, my convoy was attacked and I was captured. I was held captive in a cave for three months, where they wanted me to build them that same multi-part missile or else." Tony shakes his head and says ruefully, "But I've never been particularly good with following authority's instruction. Instead, I created a suit of metal that allowed me to escape relatively unharmed and left me wandering the desert, where Colonel Rhodes discovered and rescued me."

Tony made a little show of switching out his cards, flourishing the one before tucking it behind the other. They were blank, of course, Tony could make this speech in his sleep if he ever bothered to sleep.

"As you can imagine, my surprise vacation left its impression on me. It is because of this event and because of the things that I saw while I was there that I have decided Stark Industries will no longer create any weapons for anyone anymore." He stopped because the cameras started flashing again and he needed to give them the appropriate somber look. His fingers twitched with the urge to remove his sunglasses, but the press deserved surprises in only small doses.

"We are taking measures to make sure that this is a smooth transition for all our employees and I publicly apologize to those we previously held contracts with in regards to weaponry. Stark Industries will be shifting to greener pastures as far as technology goes. We are a company of the future, not a company of the present, and I want that future to have less death, more peace, and a lot less misery. Green energy, improved transportation, agriculture endeavors, environmental recovery, mobility enhancements and improved, enduring infrastructure is the way forward into a world where people don't have to fight each other for falsely limited supplies."

Tony put down the blank cards and then nodded to the crowd, "All right, your questions please."

Hands shot up and Tony picked one at random.

"Tina Crest, Star Tribune," the woman said, "Is it true that you had your business partner Obadiah Stane arrested this morning? Should we be concerned about internal power struggles for SI?"

"It is true," Tony said, "Because there was evidence he provided my location to the men who captured me and, may I remind you all, killed and injured the soldiers of our country who had been assigned to protect me. I won't get into the details, as I'm sure we'll see plenty of that in his upcoming trial. Since he's now been delivered into the hands of the authorities, there is no concern of power struggles. I am Stark Industries's CEO and will be until I step down, _voluntarily."_

Another wave of hands and Tony picked another at random.

"Brandon Gale, The Gazette," the man said, "Mr. Stark, this metal suit you made to escape the cave, is there more that you can tell us about that?"

"Jarvis, if you would," Tony said with a little gesture. He half turned and lifted his hand as the wall behind his head lit up with a picture. It was the metal armor, all the scraps he'd rescued from the sand and he'd been right, he'd gotten a good majority of it. The only pieces left behind were metal plates for protection, none of the tech that had made it work. "Here is an image of what I used to escape the cave. I will admit, it's tempting to make an improved version of this suit and go roaring around through the sky. However, that seems a bit irresponsible." Tony grinned, laughing a little. The chuckle was echoed by the reporters, who knew him better than most and eagerly took notes, "so, for now, I'll be tinkering with the concept, but with more focus on the capabilities of the suit outside of the abilities of what we flesh and bone mortals can do.

"There are disasters that happen daily in which a robotic hand can help if that hand is dextrous enough and the computing system intelligent enough. I'm sure I'll have more to reveal on that front in a few months." Tony lowered his glasses long enough to wink at the reporter, before sliding them back into place and picking another press member from the crowd. The image behind him faded out of view once it was no longer necessary.

"Diane Nguyen," the woman said, lowering her hand, "With the New Times. Mr. Stark, do you have any plans with regards to the weaponry that your company has sold that is out there currently? Once people are aware you're not selling anymore, will they not stockpile them and wait until the opportune time to use them instead of burning through them?"

"I have plans for weapon removal. The first is a buyback program which actually extends out to all non-Stark weaponry as well. If you have a gun and you want to get rid of it, we'll soon put out a contact number and a location in which you can get rid of your weapon for some cold hard cash. As for larger items, and for those who stockpile, well, I have a lot of lawyers and they are very practiced in negotiating terms." Tony said with a smile. He put up his hand before the reporters could and gave them an apologetic look.

"Now, I have a rather important meeting with the members of my board, as you can imagine, so I'll have no further questions, thank you." Tony plucked his cards up, tucked them into a pocket and walked off the stage as the lights flashed and a handful of hopefuls shouted questions at him.

Pepper waited off the stage, opening the door for him and shutting it when he was inside. She rubbed at her temple, but her headache wasn't all Tony's fault. Well, it wasn't a result of the press meeting at least. "The board is losing their collective mind, Tony," she said as he stopped in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie. "We need to get there and talk to them pronto."

"Fair warning, Pep," Tony said, not missing the way that she stiffened, which, fair. The last warning he'd given her was that Obie had betrayed him and that he was overhauling the entire company's tech line. "If the board really tries to stick it to me about the weapons thing, I'm going to personally invite them to visit my little cave in Afghanistan, oh don't look at me like that. I'm not going to have them kidnapped. It will be a very nice trip in my very nice jet and they will get to be escorted into the cave and then sit in it for a couple of hours while I have a little talk to them."

"That sounds like a terrible idea," Pepper said, although seeing the board members literally sweating in their suits, looking at the walls a little crazily did give her a little amusement.

"I know," Tony smiles at her and she can see the crinkle beside his eyes, showing his amusement, "Which is why they'll cave to my demands, pardon the pun."

Pepper rolled her eyes at him and then ushered him towards the other door with a little motion of her hand, "Come on Mr. Stark. They're pissed enough at you as it is, let's not be late and make them livid."

"All right, Ms. Potts," Tony said, turning on his heel to head out of the room, "If you insist."

* * *

Sitting at his workbench, Tony stretched his arms up and over his head, arching his back and hissing when it cracked audibly. This younger body could last longer working on his projects, but it still got weary and achy after twelve hours huddled over small electronics. He absently rubbed his hand around the arc reactor, still buried deep in his chest wall, and still bleeding sluggishly around the metal. He really ought to get around to fixing that, though, to do that, he was going to need a little help.

Tony heard a chirp and glanced over to see DUM-E whirring over, drink on a tray and tray clasped tightly in his claw. Tony picked up the glass and peered into it, sniffing. "This hasn't got motor oil in it, does it, buddy?" He asked the robot.

DUM-E whirred and bobbed his arm. Tony shot a look up towards the camera in the room.

"No motor oil, Sir," JARVIS said at the silent question.

Tony lifted the glass as a little toast to DUM-E and drank. As he did, his gaze wandered to the newest panel in his workroom. Where he preferred holograms and portable displays, both of which JARVIS happily used, Tony had discovered his newest creation, his newest brainchild, liked things her own way.

The flat screen was large but didn't seem too out of place, tucked along the wall near the couch and kitchen appliances. A small set of cupboards acted like a makeshift kitchenette, including a blender, coffee maker, and hidden fridge section. With the screen dark, it wouldn't look out of place in any corporate staff room, a television waiting on standby for recreational use to those making themselves something to eat or putting their feet up to rest.

The fact that the screen was immediately visible from everywhere in the workshop but the doorway wouldn't mean much to those who were used to Tony flicking away his secret projects when they arrived anyway.

Currently, the screen was split into four sections. The top left corner showed the camera feed of Obadiah's prison cell. Since it was currently around two in the morning, the man was sleeping and the room dimly lit. He hadn't moved much in his sleep, though Tony had hoped to see him restless, at least a little. Perhaps tomorrow night, when Obadiah discovered his bank accounts had been frozen and his team of lawyers reduced to well-intentioned but horrifically understaffed and overworked public defense team, he would have a little more trouble resting.

In the bottom left corner, the video feed showed a mid-sized office. One man sat alone in the room, his frown deep and his chin resting on his hand. He viewed his computer screen with one eye, barely blinking, barely moving. Tony had never had much chance to observe Fury without Fury knowing he was being observed and he found the way the man gathered information to be pretty boring, actually. No music, no bright lights. Just the faint glow of his computer and a desk lamp and some file folders he occasionally referenced on his desk. Boring.

The top right corner wasn't much better. It's display rotated consistently every thirty seconds, showing a range of people, all possible subjects for watching, and all of them asleep. Ross. Barton. Potts. Rhodes. Banner. Hammer. Vanko. Killigan. And others. Mostly trouble, all of them, except for the handful few, the ones that slept under the watchful, protective eye of Tony's newest AI. He was surprised it had found Vanko so easily and was less surprised at the squalor that the poor camera picked up on. Unease made Tony frown as the screen paused and he saw the man half curled up over a desk covered in designs, sleep squishing his cheek against his own arm.

He shook off the feeling as the image shifted, this time to Ross, asleep in his bed, his snoring almost visible, if not audible.

The bottom right corner was the most interesting one that Tony could see now. He had met Foster several times in the other world, the world only he could remember. She was smart and testy and a hard worker. She had a vision, a belief, and just enough crumbs of science to put it together into something incredible.

Her funding, in the world before, had always been spotty. Working with old tech, sacrificing a proper set up to be portable, to be functional, to still be able to study, even if it meant computers that took twice as long to compile data and driving around with everything in one RV. She'd gotten better funding once Thor had shown up, but even then Tony hadn't really bothered to stick his nose into her business.

Now, he knew better. Now, he realized what the world really needed- not _superheroes._

The world needed a plan.

And it needed smart people to help with that plan.

So the bottom right corner showed Foster, neck deep in some computing with a light overhead and a tight expression on her face. If he wanted to, he knew he could just as easily see what she was working on as the camera watching her face, watching the whole room behind her, was attached to the laptop that came with Stark's funding.

He really thought she might have fought back against his funding, after all, his playboy recklessness was still what everyone saw. He wasn't Iron Man. He wasn't an Avenger. He hadn't nearly died for the world, yet. He was just some billionaire CEO who had a bad trip to Afghanistan and came back feeling remorseful and regretful; already the world was clamoring at him, asking when he'd give up this farce, and it had only been two days since the announcement.

Foster had taken the money, though, and took the tech. All he had asked was to be kept up to date on her work. All she had said was that it was good Stark Industries was doing something good for the world.

Tony watched her work, just as swallowed up in her calculations and her data as he had been in his only moments before.

Setting down his now empty cup, Tony asked, "Anything interesting, Nobody?"

His tablet _pinged_ next to him. He looked down at the retro black text box, white text blinking in the corner. It looked so much like a classic dos browser he wanted to shake his head at the nostalgia of it.

ROMANOVA IS IN TRANSIT.

Tony had given her a voice, just like he'd given JARVIS a voice. He knew she could talk, had heard her soft whisper before- nothing like FRIDAY, even if he couldn't help but be reminded- NOBODY was his first female AI here. FRIDAY might never even be born.

Tony wasn't about to give up Jarvis again, Vision or no Vision.

"Oh is she? Where's our little red spider off to at this time of night?"

RETURNING TO SHIELD. HER MISSION IN ROMANIA WAS A SUCCESS. SHE WILL HAVE A DEBRIEF WITH HER SUPERVISOR UPON ARRIVAL TO THE STATES.

"You got a visual, baby girl?" Tony asked.

Immediately, NOBODY's display screen shifted. Obadiah was immediately exchanged for Romanoff, who, despite the straight dark hair and awkward glasses and decidedly un-spider-like outfit, was recognizable to both Tony and NOBODY. She had a book on her lap, and she very well could be reading it to pass the time. The train window beyond her showed a quickly passing scenery, brightly lit from the midmorning sun, and Tony wondered if she was headed his way or if Fury was waiting for some other sign before he started that nonsense.

Tony looked at her and marveled. How young she looked. How young they all looked. From Pepper to Romanoff to his own damn reflection. No gray hair, no weathered lines. Only that strange glowing to his eyes to tip off the casual observer that Something Was Up.

Sighing, Tony rubbed his hand over his face, "Boring," he declared. "The whole lot of them. Boring, boring, boring." He waved his hand dismissively to the screen and NOBODY switched the rotation top screen to Obadiah, keeping Romanoff right where she was.

"Sir," JARVIS's patient words made Tony lower his hand from where he tugged at his hair, "It is two in the morning. Perhaps the world will be less boring in the morning."

Tempting as it was to pick up his tools and get back to work, Tony knew he'd bought himself months of time with Obadiah. The trial would drag Stark Industries through the media circus for a little while, true, but while some media would be awful, it would also allow for so many opportunities. So many chances to press his message into the media. Tony Stark was done designing weapons; he was going to design the future.

Tony shook himself. What was he thinking? Bought himself months of time? He'd already changed everything. He hadn't just made one little change. He'd ripped out a whole part of his past, had struck preemptively, and now everything would be different.

He bent over his work, picking up the metal limb on the table and turning his attention to its inner workings again. He couldn't trust what he remembered to come true, not anymore. So he had to work harder than before, faster than before, for things he knew _could_ happen and things he thought _might_ happen.

Before he sank fully into his work again, there was a ping and he glanced over to the tablet.

CURRENT WORK TIME HAS EXCEEDED TWELVE HOURS.

MENTAL RELAXATION IS REQUIRED TO ALLOW THE MIND TO PROCESS AND DISTRIBUTE INFORMATION.

REST, SIR.

"Two hours," he muttered, pushing the tablet away. "Ping me in two hours. I'll go to sleep then."

"As you say, Sir," JARVIS said above him.

Tony smiled and got back to work.

* * *

Pepper walks through the front door already preparing in her head what to tell Tony. Stocks are fluctuating what with Obadiah being dragged across the coals in his trial and Tony announcing a new type of green energy, some sort of reactor he developed _while in a fucking cave._ She's certain she'll find him neck deep in some project in his workshop, shadows under his eyes and that sunburn still reddening his skin.

Except when she rounds the corner into the main room of the mansion, there's music and noise and Pepper finds Tony in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich and reaching for his coffee mug. Pepper stops and blinks. "Tony?" Automatically, the music in the room drops to a much quieter level.

Tony turns and offers her a little wave, "Morning Ms. Potts," he says with a smile, his eyes have a teasing light in them, "You're just in time. See, Jarvis, I told you she would get here on time."

"I did not doubt you for a moment, Sir," JARVIS replied. Pepper approached slowly, pleasantly surprised to see Tony biting into a hearty sandwich. He was eating, she realized, all on his own. And he looked rested too. Like he'd actually laid down in a bed and closed his eyes. Impossible.

She looked down at her phone. It was ten thirty in the morning on a Thursday. She generously gave Tony an hour to show up at the office, but if he didn't show, she would come here to, usually, shuffle him into bed or into the shower and then off to the office. Belatedly, as he came around the counter, sandwich in one hand, coffee in the other, she saw he was dressed. Slacks and shoes and a comfortable shirt, and there, over one chair, was a sport coat draped and waiting to be put on. Tony sat at a bar stool, turned towards her. Crumbs fell as he ate but he didn't mind them.

"Tony?" She said again, wrong-footed by his behavior. What had _happened_ to him in Afghanistan? Yes, yes, she knew what he told everyone and she knew what Rhodes and seen and she had heard what he'd said and seen pictures but the man who scrunched up his nose in a smile when he saw her, who happily wolfed down his sandwich and looked put together, the man who had ruthlessly and systematically removed and destroyed the life of Obadiah- He wasn't Tony. Not like she knew him.

"Yes?" he asked. "Would you like some coffee? We can whip up a latte for you quick enough we won't be late, can't we Jarvis?"

"Yes, Sir," JARVIS said, sounding bemused.

"Tony, what is going on?" Her brain caught up with his words and she shook her head slightly, trying to move past the confusion, "Late for what?"

"Our flight?" Tony said, head cocked, "Jarvis, go ahead with the latte, I think Ms. Potts needs some pep in her step." He winked at her.

Pepper finished crossing the room and sat on the stool next to him. The coffee machine whirred into life and she just rubbed at her temples. "Our flight where?"

"Virginia," Tony said, even more amused now. For a second, Pepper stared at him until she realized he wasn't saying her name, he was saying the state.

"Why are we going to Virginia?"

"I've got to meet a man about a job," Tony said cryptically, "And a giant about some pants."

"How long will we be in Virginia?" Pepper asked.

"A day or two, not very long I'm sure," Tony said. "Job interviews are typically pretty quick, aren't they?"

"They can be," she replied and gave a little smile, "But visiting a tailor might take some time."

Tony laughed. "No, see, I already have the pants. Good thing JARVIS got them baking right away, really, because even an afternoon later and we'd be so behind schedule." He gestures towards the couches and she notices, for the first time, a bright green package on the coffee table.

"Should I ask for more details?" Pepper asked, "Or are you too pleased in being cryptic?" She rested her arm on the bar, fingers tapping on the marble counter.

Tony's smile never faded, but his eyes looked more serious. Pepper had gotten used to the orange in them, bright and living like a charged wire, and didn't so much as twitch when their light focused on her, seemed to see right through to her heart. She just wanted to know what was going on, to know that she could still trust Tony. He was her boss, yes, but also her friend and a good man beneath all the attitude and sparkle.

Tony reached out and put his hand on top of hers, "There's a man in a lot of pain and anxiety, Pepper," he said quietly, "Someone I heard about only vaguely before, but who I can help more seriously now. He's brilliant and kind and doesn't deserve the hell that he's about to see." He pressed down on her hand, firm but not painful, "I've seen hell, Pep. And if I can spare one good man from seeing it too, I will. So, will you come with me or do you need to stay here and look after things at the shop?"

Pepper put her other hand on top of Tony's and gripped his fingers tightly. "The office will be fine for two days without your presence, Mr. Stark, and with me there at your side, I'm sure we'll be able to handle anything quickly and efficiently. If you promise to attend next week's meeting _and_ to the tour of the renovated factories in New Mexico, I'll happily help you."

Tony laughed, "Always negotiating," He turned his hand, squeezed hers and then slipped out of her grip. "Smart and clever. Now, let's get your latte, Big Green's present, and get the hell out of here. Happy should be here any minute and you know how he hates when I'm late!" He drained the last of his cup, hopped down from the bar and circled it to the coffee machine. As he poured her drink into an insulated travel mug, Pepper headed towards the door.

She easily scooped up the shiny green present, a thin rectangular box that seemed about big enough for one or two articles of clothing, and tucked it into her arms along with her Starkpad and phone. Tony cheerfully told JARVIS to mind the house and followed her out.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early evening when the sleek black car pulled into the small parking lot outside of the Big Slice. Happy hopped out of the front and stepped quickly to the back, opening the door for the two occupants. Pepper stepped out first, the setting sun catching on the shine of her gold heels and flashing as she took a few steps from the car. She smoothed her hair back over her shoulder as she looked up and down at the small building in front of them.

The worn brick and cracked sidewalk spoke of years of occupancy and the smell in the air, bread and tomato sauce and something savory like beef or sausage, made her mouth water somewhat.

Tony got out after her, straightening his jacket and putting on his shades. He took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, "God, I will never know how I survived three months in the desert without good old American cuisine. Come on, I hear this place has a fantastic rating and I'm dying for a big slice."

Pepper shook her head slightly, but smiled anyway, following Tony as Happy led the way to the door. The pizzeria was dimly lit inside, with small booths and circular tables giving it a tight, homey sort of feel. The smell of the place was even better on the inside and Pepper swallowed. She hadn't had a bite to eat since that morning's breakfast and she was quite hungry.

Taking her cue from Tony, who admired the posters and decals in the foyer and ignored the hostess, Pepper stepped forward. "Booth for three," she said with a smile.

The hostess, probably a college student from the Culver University nearby, nodded. Her eyes kept flicking to Tony, growing a little wider each time, and Pepper just smiled benevolently. It was the first time Tony had really been out sin Afghanistan and, with how odd he had been lately, she worried a little bit about how he would act. Would he slip right back into his old flirty, playboy ways? So far he hadn't, even though the woman who led them to a booth in the back corner of the place seemed plenty young and pretty.

Tony took the seat where he could see the rest of the pizzeria, leaving Pepper and Happy to share the other side of the booth. The three of them got water to start with and without even looking at the menu, left on the table by the hostess, Tony asked for two plates of appetizers.

When asked what kind, he shrugged and asked to be surprised.

The woman set a desperate look to Pepper and Happy and Pepper quickly flipped open the menu, skimmed the options and said, "The garlic sticks and green salads will be fine to start with, thank you."

The woman nodded and hurried off.

Tony rested an elbow on the table and gave her a frown. "Salads, Pepper? We're at a pizza place! You don't eat salad with pizza!"

"That's right," She replied, looking at the rest of the menu, it didn't have much, just different categories of items and lists. Other than a few suggestions of pizzas at the bottom, their selection seemed to be totally custom. "We're having salad _before_ our pizza."

Tony laughed and shook his head. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his phone and idly tapped at it. "Order something good for me," he said, "I'm going to head to the restroom."

Happy half started to get out but Tony waved him down and left the two of them sitting alone. Pepper sighed and shifted in her seat. She looked over her shoulder, watching as he made his way through the tables and towards a doorway in the back labeled _Restrooms._

"What should we get?" Happy asked, taking Tony's instruction to heart. Pepper tried to put Tony's oddness out of her head and gave the menu serious thought.

* * *

Through the doorway under the sign _Restrooms,_ there were three doorways. One labeled _Mens._ One labeled _Womens._ And one labeled _Employee Only._

Tony went for the third door and tried the handle. It was locked, of course, but really that had never stopped him from getting into someplace he wanted to be before. He searched his pockets until he found his favorite metal pen. Twisting it in half, he pulled out the lockpicks from inside and got to work.

He didn't have to worry about the security camera that was above his shoulder and to the right, tucked into the corner of the hallway to keep from anyone getting where they weren't supposed to. NOBODY had a handle on that already.

It took longer than he would've liked- he was getting rusty in his lock picking ways, it seemed- but soon he had the door open and he could step inside. The door opened almost immediately onto some stairs and it was these that Tony went up, lowering his glasses just enough so he could see in the dim light. He pushed them back into place as he reached the top of the stairs and stepped into the illuminated hallway.

A blip on his phone made him look down and read the message sent there.

SECOND DOOR ON THE LEFT.

Tony sent back a thumbs up emoji and tucked the phone away. He went up to the door and stopped, hand raised, ready to knock. Uncertainty darted through him like a fish in a fast moving stream. He had already changed a lot with Stane. He had already altered the timeline by putting off his debut as Iron Man. This whole world was going to be different now, but those things had been _his_ things. His life. His past. His mistakes. His enemies. His problems.

If he turned back now, he could wait to meet Banner when Banner was brought to see him in the Helicarrier…

Tony shook his head.

No. He was trying to prevent the Helicarrier entirely. Bruce had been right when he'd call them a disaster waiting to happen, a bomb, not a team. It had exploded in Tony's hands. It had nearly destroyed him- it probably had, actually- but now he was getting another chance in another timeline.

And if they didn't want Tony to play nice on their team, then fine. Tony would make his own team. He had the money to support it, the charm to win people over and the intelligence needed to manage it. SHIELD wasn't necessary- he'd learned that after it's fall in his proper timeline.

He was going to change Banner's future. He was going to change everyone's future. That was what Tony Stark did. He _made_ the future.

Tony knocked three times, and then waited. There was a shuffling sound and then a creak of a floorboard. He waited. Finally footsteps and a cautious, "Stanley?" through the door.

"Not quite, Buttercup," Tony said cheerfully back at him.

A silence. Another creak.

Tony knocked again, "I wouldn't bother trying to escape out the window. It's really undignified for a man with the number of doctorates that you have, plus I'll just find you again. If it helps, I'm here to offer you a job, not to drag you off kicking and screaming to the United States Armed Forces."

Tony heard a soft mutter on the other side of the door. He could practically feel the tension oozing through from Bruce, but he just stood and smiled and waited.

The handle turned. The door pulled open. Bruce peered at him from a crack that, as he took in Tony's appearance, from his shades to his jacket to the shirt and shoes, not one ounce of a military in the look of him, grew wider until Tony could see all of Bruce's incredulous expression and worn, second-hand clothing. Tony waved one hand, wiggling his fingers, "Well hello darling, my name is-"

"You're Tony Stark," Banner just stared at him, "You're actually Tony Stark, aren't you? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I have a job opening that has an awful lot of very particular requirements to it and when I was searching for possible candidates, it turns out you're the only fellow on the whole planet who can fill them," Tony shrugged. "So here I am, to give you the job interview of a lifetime."

"What?" Banner asked. "A job?" The surprise on his face darkened into something else and he growled out, "Don't you make weapons of mass destruction?"

"I see your time abroad has closed you off from the current media sensations," Tony said. He pulled out his phone, tapped a few things and then turned it around. On the screen was a recording of his announcement to the press. Banner watched, mouth opening slightly, as the recording of Tony renounced weapons and essentially declared an upheaval of his entire empire.

"Stark Industries no longer deals in weapons. We're all about the future and the future is pretty green," Tony lowered his shades and winked at Banner.

Banner leaned back, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then bit his lip. Tony felt bad for him. It wasn't every day the CEO of the biggest company in the country tracked someone like Bruce down and gave them a job. Usually, there were people for that, like Pepper or the people Tony had working for Pepper.

But Banner was different. Banner required a special touch.

And, truth be told, Tony had missed the bastard. He'd vanished after Sokovia and Tony hadn't had the ability to track him down. Maybe things would've been different for the Accords if he'd had Banner and the Big Green Mean Machine on his side.

"You know about-" Banner cleared his throat, "You know about him, don't you."

Tony nodded.

"And you're still offering me a job? Any lab that I work in… It could be completely destroyed…"

"As if I do not have the ability to destroy my own labs without you?" Tony scoffed, "Come on, Brucie-bear don't be so myopic. Besides, you haven't even heard the terms of employment! I have a whole thing for you _and_ for Big Green."

"What?" Banner choked out.

Tony kept going like he hadn't said anything, "Really, just come on downstairs, join me for some dinner -we're having pizza by the way- and let me discuss the terms with you. We're talking some pretty juicy terms, too, like state of the art lab facilities, unlimited budget, unlimited data access, and a big party room whenever you happen to lose your temper a little bit so you and the big guy can cool off and then get back to work. I'll even cover medical costs! I don't know why you wouldn't jump on the chance, honestly, because the other options out there aren't nearly as great."

"Other… Other options?" Banner asked. He looked a little pale, a little dazed. Tony's heart was pounding. He could feel the hum of the arc reactor in his chest and the ache of it was real. Last time, Bruce had resisted his offer with a sad look and uncertainty. Tony didn't want to lose Banner again.

"You were hiding for years, Brucie," Tony said, his words softening slightly. This was his friend, one of the few he'd had before, and he wanted so badly to ease the pain and confusion he could see in Banner's face. "You were hiding for good reason, too. But now you're back and you're still trying to hide but sooner or later you will be found. I got here first because I'm the best, but I won't be the only one who figures out who it is that took up that spare room in the best pizzeria in this little town."

Tony reached out and gently put his hand on Banner's shoulder. Banner went still under his touch. Tony fully removed his shades and looked him in the eye.

"I know what it's like for people to look at you and see only the death you could create and for that to somehow be the best thing that could come from your hands. I know what it's like for people to see what you can do and demand that they get to control you because of it. My offer is not about controlling you, Bruce. I'm offering you a job, because once you work for Tony Stark, Tony Stark will work for you."

The air between them was charged, heavy with Tony's sincerity and Banner's distrust. Banner's cheek clenched. Tony held his eyes. He waited.

Finally, Banner opened the door a little more, nodding his head slightly. "I'll hear your offer," he said, lifting up his hand to shake his finger at Tony, "No promises. If I don't like it, I won't take it. But I'll listen to it."

Tony slid his shades back on and grinned, "Brucie-bear, it will be all you could hope for and more. Now, let's go, shall we? I told my Pepper I would be gone for a minute but she's bound to get worried if I'm gone much longer!" He scoffed, smoothing his jacket over his chest, "You get kidnapped once and people start thinking you're going to get kidnapped every time you're gone for twenty minutes!" He turned and strode away.

Banner, after a hesitant thirty seconds, followed him down the stairs.

* * *

Pepper looked up to see Happy walking back with Tony only a minute after Happy had left their table in search of the man. There was a tightness in her chest that relaxed when she saw him, smiling and talking to another man with his regular ease. Happy took his seat beside her as Tony slid in and gestured for the man beside him to follow. Pepper recognized him from the search she'd done on him after Tony had finally, _finally_ told her his name on the plane. He looked a little thin and nervous, twitchy almost, as he gingerly sat at the edge of the booth.

"Pepper, Happy," Tony said with a gesture to indicate them, "This is Dr. Bruce Banner. Brucie, this is Pepper and Happy. He keeps me safe and she tells me where to go. Now, what did you two order for our dinner? And here, Bruce, for you," he pushed over his untouched salad to Bruce, who looked at it and then at Tony.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Banner," Pepper said pleasantly. "Mr. Stark had me prepare two contracts for you to review as part of your potential employment for Stark Industries." She reached for her bag and pulled out a slim folder. She slid it across the table to him, too used to Tony's Don't-Hand-Me-Things to even think twice about it.

Banner picked up the folder and gave Tony an incredulous look. "Two?"

"Well I can't exactly ask Big Green to help me in the lab, can I? His skillset is a little different than yours." Tony said, picking up his water and sipping from it.

Banner's lips pressed into a thin line. "You keep treating him like… He's not like that. He's just a- a monster."

"I have faith," Tony said, "Now, give those a little look, will you?" He picked up one of the breadsticks, broke it in half and bit into it. "Tell me if I'm missing something and we can tack it on. Whatever you want, Brucie, we'll put it in there for you."

Pepper winced. "Mr. Stark," she said, lowering her voice slightly, "To promise him anything-"

"A zen garden?" Banner said, looking up from the third page of the document. "I don't understand. The labs and the access I get, and even the security detail, that's fine. But this whole section on how you'll outfit my living quarters- Mr. Stark, you can't be serious."

"Zen gardens are good," Tony quipped, "I think you'll like them." He leaned over into the man's space, shoulder's brushing, and gestured down at the contract with the half of his breadstick. "You can rake sand and enjoy nature and I can even have a few big rocks put in there so the big guy can enjoy it too."

Banner lowered the pages and leveled Tony with a hard stare, "You're not taking this seriously. You're not taking _him_ seriously. This isn't- I'm not some sort of weird pet you get to keep around because you're a billionaire and you think you can do that kind of shit."

Pepper saw the way that Tony went still and she fought the urge to speak up in his defense. She'd been at first confused and then amused by all the extra things Tony had thrown into the contract. He'd clearly thought it through all the way, even down to Banner's troubled relationship with the military, and had thought of all the sorts of things he could do to deal with the problems. Tony had clearly approached Banner's situation, living on the run and dealing with the fallout of his experimentation, with the intention to help Banner, not to fix the man but to fix the problems around him.

He wanted to support Banner. It was obvious to anyone who knew Tony that the gifts and the consideration and the playful attitude were all those things. It was just that Banner knew nothing of Tony and had nothing but distrust for him right now.

"You won't be locked up," Tony said, "I won't keep you anywhere against your will. Neither you or _him_ are a pet, Bruce. But neither one of you is a monster either. You're a scientist. He's big and green. You didn't mean to do this to yourself and I don't think he means to hurt people. But there are people who want your work, who think what happened to you can be turned into a weapon. And I," He pointed to himself, tapping himself in the chest, there was an odd almost plastic sound to the tap. Pepper had almost forgotten about the thing in Tony's chest since he kept it covered with a light blocking cap. "I don't approve of the way you've been treated. So this?" he pointed to the contracts, "All of _that_ and all of _this_ ," He gestured to the four of them at the table, to the pizzas and the salads and the cups with condensation running down the sides.

"All of it is because I don't think you should be treated the way you have been and I just happen to have the money, the resources, and the balls to tell everyone who wants you to be their weapon to shove it right up their ass. Come and work for me, take the zen garden, get the labs, enjoy the party room, help me make the world better, Bruce, because if we don't start now there won't be time later."

Silence descended on the table. Tony and Banner stared at each other. Pepper looked between the two of them, her eyes trying to catch Tony's but only seeing Banner's reflection in his shades.

Banner said nothing. He looked down at the contracts. He took the thicker one, the one for him, off the top and went for the much thinner, two-page document underneath.

Pepper nervously picked up her glass of water. She knew what that page said and knew that since he hadn't finished the first packet, Banner wouldn't have any warning.

All the language on the second document had been simplified. The things provided, the parameters of the contract- there wasn't much that Tony was providing the thing he called Big Green other than somewhere to rage and someone to help clean up the mess afterward.

And there, at the bottom, where Banner's eyes now looked, was the single responsibility of said Big Green.

Banner looked up and repeated the words out incredulously, "Protect the world from secret shadow organizations and future alien invasions? What the hell?"

Tony smiled. "They're coming, Brucie," he looked at the man over the top edge of his glasses. The orange glow of his eyes was even more obvious in the dim light of the restaurant, "I've seen them."

* * *

Between the four of them, two and a half pizzas and two trays of breadsticks were demolished. Sometime after Bruce had gone back to the first contract, setting aside the obviously insane pseudo-contract that had been drafted up for, well, _him,_ Stanley had noticed he was over there and puttered over, looking worried and horribly curious. Stark had been a firecracker of personality to the man, more than willing to pose for a picture and declare his pizza the best in town. It was clear that Stanley was both a little awestruck and hopeful that having a framed Stark on his wall might draw in more customers. Times had been hard, recently, especially for a small, personalized place like this.

Stark, for his part, seemed actually enthusiastic about the pizza, more than willing to gulp down slices while he diverted his attention to Bruce, his employees across the both, and the phone in his hand. His mind seemed to work at a clip a step above everyone else and, Bruce, for the first time since he'd left his research behind, for the first time since the accident, for the first time since _Hulk,_ found he might not be the smartest one in the room anymore.

Not that measuring their respective intelligences would make one smarter than the other, but Stark had both feet planted firmly on the ground while he commanded the world around him to bend to his frankly preposterous beliefs. Honestly. _Alien invasions? Secret shadow organizations?_ Who the hell did Stark think he was kidding? What had happened to Bruce was horrible but accidental and he didn't want it to happen to anyone else, sure, but Bruce had read through the contract more thoroughly and he was certain that Stark, for his genius, had to have several screws completely missing.

And still, somehow, he seemed more comfortable with Bruce's bad side than Bruce himself was. It was disorientating. Where he expected fear or caution, Stark referenced the monster in friendly terms like 'Big Guy' or 'Big Green'. Where he could see avid curiosity or obsession, like Bruce had seen in others who wanted to use him to get to the Hulk, to make more people like the Hulk, Stark hadn't seemed to care at all. He wasn't surprised by the monster. He wasn't scared of Bruce. He wasn't interested in parading him around. All he wanted was to give Bruce a lab and space to cool off if he needed it, in return for the use of Bruce's brain and, occasionally, the Hulk's brawn.

It was entirely unsettling.

Even Pepper- Ms. Potts, Bruce had to remind himself because he barely knew the woman and even if Stark was confident in calling her Pepper or Pep, he just couldn't get away with it, no matter how contagious the nick-name- seemed a little wary of him. She smiled and was plenty polite, sure, but she had a stiff posture whenever Stark hadn't distracted her to the point of her forgetting Bruce was there.

She knew about the Hulk. He could tell. And she was afraid.

At least someone had some sense at this table.

"Should we get dessert?" Stark asked the table at large. He stirred his straw around and around in his cup, rattling the ice in it noisily. "Ice cream maybe? A froyo place if they have it? This is a college town, isn't it? There's got to be some little shop like that. What do you say, Brucie? Is there somewhere we can get a frozen bite to eat?"

"You can find me easily enough," Bruce replied, "Can't you look up a place?" he gestured idly to Stark's phone. The screen was dark, but Bruce had seen him poking at it all night. Who he was talking to or what he was doing, Bruce couldn't quite catch it, but that was mostly because Stark's fingers obscured most of the screen.

"But where's the fun in that?" Stark honest-to-god _whined_ and then turned his pout to Pepper, "Pep, frozen yogurt or ice cream?"

"Yogurt," she replied simply. "It's better for you."

"They're both desserts," Stark said, waving his hand at her. "Now," he tapped his thumb at the screen and then swiped it upwards, "What do you think of that place? It's not too far and we can be there in a hop and a skip, right Happy?"

Both Happy and Pepper pulled out phones and looked at them. Happy nodded, "About eight minutes away, sir. And that's only if the lights act against us."

Pepper sighed. "It has fine enough reviews, but honestly, Tony. Frozen yogurt?"

"Why not?"

She looked at him, her lips pressed into a thin line, and then glanced at Bruce. "How much more time do you need to consider your contracts?"

"Pepper!" Stark gasped at her but his affront was clearly an act, even to Bruce. "Don't let her rush you, Bruce. Take all the time you need to decide-"

"The easiest and simplest course of action will be a concrete yes or no while we're still here, where you live," Pepper said simply, ignoring Stark and looking directly at Bruce. "If you come with us to the yogurt shop, we'll still have to come back whether or not you say yes or no. If you decline now, we can leave and part ways this way. If you accept now, we can take what you'd like and put it in the car, then get ice cream and head to the jet."

"And I take it the offer expires once you're gone?" Bruce asked.

Pepper opened her mouth but Stark cut in with a little jerking motion of his hand, "No. It doesn't expire. I don't want to rush you into anything, you have to chose to come to work for me."

Pepper sighed and added, "There is a clause that holds it open indefinitely, however, it only works one way. If you say no now you can still say yes later, but once you say yes, you can't say no. Once you say yes, you're bound to the contract for the duration of its effect." She folded her hands together on top of the counter, "Mr. Stark would absolutely love to welcome you to work for him in his state of the art, top of the line laboratories, Dr. Banner, but he is adamant that it is a choice you make for yourself."

Stark's shoulders sank and he sighed, "Bubble burster," he accused Pepper but she just gave him a little frown.

"Mr. Stark," she said, her tone holding not an ounce of flexibility, "We have been sitting in this booth for five hours. I'm sure Mr. Lieber would like to close his shop and clean up. The frozen yogurt place will be open for only another hour and I'd hate to have to leave only to come back to drop off Dr. Banner and disturb Mr. Leiber."

Stark frowned at her again, but she was unmoved. So he turned his attention to Bruce, who tensed. This close, and in the dim light, he could see the orange glow of Stark's eyes even with the shades on his face. They weren't solidly orange and the light seemed unwilling to diffuse, instead, it created a sharp, narrow ring of orange light like a red-hot wire in the center of his eyes.

It was those eyes that had kept Bruce there. Long after the contract had lost its shiny appeal of supposed freedom of research and unlimited supplies, and after the fake contract for the Hulk had lost the twitches of humor it had failed to inspire, it was the eyes that had kept Bruce sitting there, wondering, considering it, thinking it over. Because it was the eyes that spoke to something in him, eyes like that weren't… human. They just weren't. They looked lit up from the inside and Bruce had teetered between cybernetic enhancement and, fuck it, alien interaction.

Because Stark had looked at him with those eyes, had looked at him and had told him a truth that Stark believed one hundred percent.

There _were_ aliens. He had _seen_ them.

"I," Bruce began, fingers fiddling with the corner of the pages. A bit of doubt chewed at his thoughts. What if the contract for the Hulk wasn't a joke at all? What if Stark was serious? What if he _could_ build a room to contain the Hulk? What if he would help Bruce get the antidote he needed? After all, Stark's father had been part of the first super-soldier serum that Bruce had been studying, access to that data… It would've been invaluable the first time around. "I," he repeated himself. His thoughts were a tumbling mess. His heart was beginning to pound. He had been thinking about this for hours, his brain running in circles and-

"Bruce?"

The voice, achingly familiar but faint, came through Bruce like a wave, crashing against his tumultuous mind and leaving him shivering, staring at the speaker.

Betty stared at him. She was arm in arm with someone Bruce might've recognized if he bothered looking at him at all. All he could see, all he needed to see, was Betty. Her dark eyes widened as her question was answered. Was he Bruce? Yes. He was.

Bruce hesitated and then felt an elbow against his side. He jumped and found himself being ushered out by Tony Stark. Betty's eyes grew wider as Bruce slid out of the booth and Tony Stark followed him. Even the man at her side seemed shocked, mouth dropping open before he remembered to snap it shut.

"Tony Stark," Stark said with a brilliant smile. He held out his hand to Betty. She shook it, looking dazed. "You must be Betty Ross. And this with you?"

"Dr. Leonard Samson," he said, regaining his composure first. He put his arm possessively around Betty and something in Bruce stirred, annoyed. Angry.

He abruptly looked away from the two of them and accidentally caught Pepper's eye. She looked resigned, lips pressed into a thin line and her eyes watching Stark. She noticed he was looking at her and said quietly, "Sorry, I don't know how much he knows about you or your life but knowing him… If it's in a computer somewhere. He's read it."

 _He knows everything,_ Pepper's gaze told him. Her worry made sense, but Bruce had a feeling she wasn't so much worried for the people around Stark as she was for Stark himself.

Bruce took in a deep breath and turned back just in time to see Betty, with Stark's charming smile easing the way, slip her arm from Samson's and come towards him. Stark was asking Samson for something or about something but Bruce couldn't be bothered to care. Not when Betty suddenly stood in front of him, close enough to touch, close enough to almost smell her perfume, close enough to realize that, oh god, she was on a date. She was dressed up, not a whole lot because it was just some pizzeria, but enough. There were dangling earrings and a little bit of lipstick and a sparkle to her cheeks and the blouse she wore looked silky soft and comfortable.

"Betty," Bruce began, then stopped. He didn't have a clue what to say to her. Where to begin? Everything was still so turbulent between them-

"It's good to see you, Bruce," she said gently. "I didn't realize you were back in the area."

"Just got back a few days ago," he replied. He hadn't even been there a week. He had no idea how Stark had found him so fast. It was kind of terrifying. "How are you? How are things? You look-" his words failed him.

She smiled and Bruce couldn't help but smile back. He'd spent the whole evening feeling wrongfooted, but when Betty did it, it just made him feel shy and young and dumb, not anxious and nervous. "Things are fine," She said, "I'm doing all right. Culver is… well, it's just fine I suppose. Samson and I-" for the first time, she turned to look over her shoulder and bit the corner of her lip nervously.

Samson had visibly given up all pretense in trying to return to her side. Stark had him looking at something on his phone, brows furrowed together, lips pressed into a thin line. Betty laughed lightly and shook her head. "I really didn't expect to see you here," she said instead, "What are you doing here?"

"I.. Uh.."

And then there was Pepper at his side, prim and smiling even having spent five hours in a pizzeria booth with her probably insane but definitely genius boss, a monster-man and, well, Happy. She smiled at Betty and said, "Mr. Stark came to see Dr. Banner about a job interview. He informed me that if we happened to cross paths with you, Dr. Ross, to provide you with this."

Pepper produced yet another bundle of paper, smooth and professional, and Bruce stared at her.

Betty took the papers and looked at them, blinking, almost dazed in her expression. "This is… This is a contract for employment," she said quietly.

"What?" Bruce said. He stepped forward, unable to stop himself, and next to Betty. There it was, just like his own, his _two,_ an employment contract. It began in similar ways but offered different things. Things that Betty would like or need, things relating to her own studies.

"Pepper," Stark was suddenly back in the middle of them, "Draft me up a consultant form with the appropriate NDAs and have it sent over to Dr. Samson ASAP. He's going to help me with that whole popsicle debacle that's coming up soon." He turned, saw the pages in Betty's hands and grinned, "Now I know you have employment at Culver currently, but we can negotiate with you on that. Pepper, explain it to her will you?"

"This can't be happening," Bruce said in a daze, stepping back as Pepper came to do just as Stark had told her to. Betty was listening to her, holding the contract in her hands like it was a delicate, breakable thing and Pepper was helpfully discussing her options. Bruce looked over and even Samson seemed a little out of it. He just stared at the phone in his hands, his fingers over his mouth, eyes wide.

And in the middle of it all was Stark. Stark who looked at him with those eyes, glowing behind the glasses, burning two holes into the center of Bruce, intense and unforgiving even above that cheeky, smarmy little smile.

 _Oh but it is,_ Stark's eyes seemed to say, _It is happening and I made It happen._

He opened his mouth and Bruce held his breath. Dread filled him. What the hell was Stark going to do now? How could he add to this chaos?

"Happy, get the car ready. I want some froyo."

* * *

In the parking lot of the frozen yogurt shop, two couples rest against opposite sides of the same sleek black vehicle. The parking lot is primarily lit up from the distant street lamps and the wide windows of the shop, casting long shadows that bleed into the darkness of the night and letting just the hint of stars glimmer above them.

Banner and Ross are quiet, leaning against the trunk of the black Cadillac, their heads bowed together, their shoulders touching. He's holding his empty cup against his thigh and Ross stirs her yogurt with her spoon. They talk quietly, their voices a murmur that is drowned out every time a car drives nearby.

Tony and Happy lean against the hood of the car, Tony with his phone in his hands, the screen reflecting a harsh box of light against the shades he has pushed up onto the top of his head and Happy looking upwards at the sky as he silently eats his dessert. Pepper is inside the car, her voice muffled as she makes phone calls and works, capable even while so far from her office and home.

Happy sighs heavily, his shoulders heaving. Tony flicks his eyes up at him and makes a muted questioning noise. Happy lifts his spoon up and gestures at the sky, "You really sure that there's shit out there, Tony? Honest to god, you're not pulling some shit just to get a guy with a half dozen doctorates to jump into the industries arms?"

Tony doesn't look up at the stars. He tries to avoid doing that, actually. There's something about the blackness of it, with or without the stars, that digs into his chest and pulls at him. He's not overly fond of the feeling. "I'm sure," he said.

"Then how come we haven't seen any of them?" Happy asked, "Is it like in men in black? Where they are everywhere and hide from the public?"

Tony snorted, "No. But I wouldn't put it past the general population to be dumb enough to let that happen."

Happy frowned at him. "But how do you know? If they haven't shown up yet?"

Tony hummed thoughtfully, "We haven't really pushed to explore space. Sure, we've got satellites and a few observers, but we're not out in space. We're not nearly advanced enough to communicate with what's out there for the most part, let alone go out and visit it. And there's still a shitton of space out there, Happy, we're looking into a dark room, searching the darkness for something, but not every inch of space has shit in it." He shrugged his shoulders, knowing he wasn't explaining it well but Happy was looking studiously at him so Tony continued to try. "Think of it this way, would you consider an eight-year-old kid, first time in the ring, to be a danger to a trained boxer? Imagine it. Skinny arms and gloves that are definitely too big? He might have a lot of spirit and maybe one day he'll be a force to reckon with, but he's just a kid. He's not worth the energy to deal with."

"Unless you plan on training him," Happy said, "If you see potential in someone and you can teach them, it doesn't hurt to try." He pat Tony on the shoulder when he said that, smiling.

Tony smiled back, "Well, Earth is that eight-year-old kid. And there just isn't anyone around thinking they should lend us a hand or take us under their wing. Which, can you blame them? One look at our world and it's obvious how much of a mess we still are." Tony wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "No, they'll wait until we declare we're good and ready to make nice with the rest of the civilized universe." He gestured off, towards the darkness of the sky.

"Or, if we have something they want, they'll come for it and take it. But what kind of backwater little place like this is going to have anything worthwhile?"

"The vibranium," Happy suggested, "Like the stuff that Captain America's shield is made out of. You remember that old thing, right? Found it in that old storage room and put it in the closet. You said it was made of that rare metal, vibranium. If there's more of that on the Earth, wouldn't they want it?"

"They say that shit came from an asteroid," Tony said, shrugging again. "There's probably plenty up in space, none of which you've got to go through an atmosphere to get to. But yeah, something like that or. Well. Something like this." He turned over his hand and held his phone face up. He tapped the screen with his thumb and a video appeared. Happy leaned over, eyes widening as he saw the glowing and frankly alien looking blue square contained in a small box made of some clear material. It was clear that someone was trying to study it, having some sort of wire contraption hooked up to it, but there was no sound and no explanation.

"What is that?" Happy whispered. The blue glow was intense, even transmitted through the screen.

"My father fished it up out of the ocean while searching the sea for the lost captain," Tony said, his voice casual. He's watched this video feed for hours, the blue glow as familiar to him now as the lights in his workshop. "He turned it over to an organization that prides itself on being a super secret, para-military government agency and they've been poking and prodding it ever since."

Happy's gaze lifted from the phone to Tony's face. His expression was hard to see in the low light, but from his pressed lips and grim gaze, Tony thought his intent was clear enough. Happy didn't much approve of Howard Stark. Over their time together, Tony had told him enough bits and pieces for him to have a dislike of the man that nearly matched Tony's own. Happy squeezed his shoulder a little tighter and said, using his empty cup to point at Tony's phone. "Looks like they're not making good use of it," he said, "What is it? What can it do?"

Tony takes a moment to make sure his breath is even. He can't have his voice shake and betray trauma for an event that hadn't ever happened. That wouldn't ever happen. That he would not let happen.

"It makes doorways," Tony said, "Through space. At least, that's one thing that I know it can do. I haven't been able to do much testing myself. After all, I'm not supposed to even know this organization exists, let alone what my father contributed to it."

"But you do," Happy said.

Tony nodded.

Lifting his hand, Happy scraped the last spoonful of yogurt from his cup and put it in his mouth. He was looking thoughtfully at the blue glow again, not as entranced as he was before. Happy quickly lost interest in shiny tech, Tony knew that. He was a more simple man than Tony, taking easy pleasures in good shows and nice cars and the satisfaction of a taxing boxing workout.

Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep at night, Tony wondered if he would've been better off, would've been _happier_ if he was more like Happy.

But then someone else would have to organize the protection of the Earth and Tony wasn't going to give someone else the chance to try. They would just fuck it up.

He heard the grit of footsteps and turned his phone over, tucking it back into a pocket and removing the blue glow. Happy half turned towards the sound.

It was Banner and Ross, coming around the side of the Cadillac. Ross had one hand on Banner's shoulder, supportive and comforting, but it was Banner who met Tony's gaze and looked like had something he wanted to say.

"Brucie, Betty," Tony said with a smile. He opened his mouth to continue but stopped when Banner lifted his hand. Instead, he tucked his hands into his pockets and waited.

"I don't know how you found out about me," Banner starts, "I don't know how you know as much as you do because I'm pretty sure a lot of the information is classified and not available to civilians, no matter how much money they have. Betty tells me the military's pretty pissed with you considering you reneged on practically every weapons contract you have with them and that most of the world is waiting for the other shoe to drop on this going-green act you have." Tony cannot suppress the grin at Banner's words, but it's the pun that gets him, not the actual content. Banner looks at him like he's crazy like he can't make sense of Tony, but he doesn't look at Tony like he hates him or is disgusted by him and Tony considers that a point in his favor for sure.

"But," Banner continues after a little moment, waiting for Tony's grin to fade, " _But_ I can't- I can't pass up this offer. Betty has duplicates of most of her data, but without access to a proper lab I'm basically hoping that others will be willing to help me under the table. And I can't- I can't guarantee that those people won't take my blood and do something with it, that they won't try to make more people like me even as I'm trying to find a cure." He looked tired and shook his head. Tony nodded slightly because Banner was right. You couldn't trust anyone to help cure you but you yourself. He knew that well enough already.

"If you keep your word," Banner said, looking Tony in the eyes. "I'll sign the contract. I'll need the lab and the privacy and sure, the zen garden too, but I honestly could care less about that stuff. I'm signing the contract because I believe you, Tony Stark. I believe you when you say you're done making weapons to kill people with. Maybe I'm an idiot for doing it, because everything I heard about you before this evening says you're just in it for the thrill of making things and have no impulse control and don't really give a shit about what your technology can do, but god help me, I believe you. I'll sign your contract."

"So will I," Betty added, quiet and confident. "I would like to see if I can continue to teach after settling into our new facility, but even if I can't, I want to be with Bruce and I want to help him and," there was a glitter in her eyes, steely in the sharp light cast from the frozen yogurt shop's windows, "because I trust you to not underestimate my father. I trust you to protect Bruce from him, and because of that, I'll sign."

"Well then," Tony said. He felt a soft smile on his lips and a warmth in his chest. He'd hoped for this option, had been willing to wait and wait and wait for them to talk it out and come to the right conclusion. Bruce would be safe, now, and Betty right at his side so he could be happy, too. So much of what he knew of the future would be made easier with them in his back pocket, formidable scientists both. He almost wished that Killian was somewhere even a tiny bit close to getting his Extremis formula to work. If he kept dragging his feet, Tony would snap up his little company and dump Maya and her work at Bruce's feet before Killian could even stutter out a complaint.

Tony stepped forward and offered his hand. Bruce shook it, gripping hard. Then Tony shook Ross's hand and she, too, shook firmly. "Welcome to Stark Industries," he said, "Dr. Ross, I'm sure you have some affairs to look to here and if there's anything that you need, I will be more than happy to provide help. Movers, lawyers, accountants, whatever you need to get your belongings to your new home. How do you feel about Colorado?" He asked, looking to them both now, "Plenty of fresh air and mountains and I have just the facility waiting."

Ross blinked, "You've- You've already built the place?" she asked, "You were that sure we would sign?"

"I had faith," Tony said, smiling, lying through his teeth. He crinkled his eyes, just enough for it to look real, too, and knew that it worked when they shared an exasperated look between the two of them. "And Dr. Banner, Brucie-bear, I know you might not have much in the way of belongings or affairs to take care of, but we'll put you up for the night in a nice hotel and pick up anything you'd like from the pizzeria tomorrow morning. Then it's right to Colorado for you and into that nice new lab."

Banner nodded.

Tony half turned to Happy, but he was already going to the side door and opening it. As soon as he did so, Pepper poked her head out and looked at Tony. He made a scooting in motion with his hand and she obliged. The three of them got into the back while Happy closed the door after them and got behind the wheel.

Banner and Ross signed their contracts right there, handing them back to Pepper who promised to make a copy and handed back a pair of phones. Banner glanced to Tony when he took the phone and Tony, trying to not sink into the leather of the seat and pass out from exhaustion, smiled. "All scientists with your clearance level in SI get a business issued phone," Pepper said as an explanation, saving Tony the work. "You have the other research and development heads programmed in there already, as well as my secretary's number and a line to Mr. Stark."

"It's to Jarvis, really," Tony said with a yawn, "Don't mind his sass. I don't know where he gets it from."

"Thank you," Ross said, tucking the phone into her purse. Banner nodded and put his away.

Tony slid his shades over his eyes and then closed them. With Banner on the payroll, most of the tension ran out of his shoulders. Now it was time to focus on the next problem, or rather, _problems._

Hammer. Vanko.

And the poison.


	4. Chapter 4

The door to Stark Industries Research and Development facility is locked with a badge, a handprint, and a retinal scanner. Pepper goes through all three checks with her mind picking apart the strange message she got from the R&D department head. Kanti Sodhi is usually much more composed in the memos or short instant messages that she occasionally uses to interact with Pepper or others inside of the company. She doesn't forget punctuation or capitalization and uses complete sentences, something that some of the other department heads are lax on, especially Tony, who had recently taken up using emojis in the place of words in his communications.

So when Pepper gets a message from Kanti about Tony invading the laboratory "shirtless, shoeless and a complete manic mess", she hurries from her office, down the elevator, and to the main R&D lab.

When she walks in, where there is usually a flurry of activity, with many minds at different stations, there is a cluster of SI employees gathered around a table. Pepper picks out Kanti immediately, the tall woman usually has sher hair tucked back and pinned up to be out of her way and almost always has some sort of colorful silk ribbon tied in it. Pepper finds the glint of bright blue and heads that way, hurrying down the metal stairs.

Maybe one person turns to look back over their shoulder at the sound of her shoes clicking on the metal and she gets halfway down the steps before she realizes what, or rather, _who_ has their attention.

It's Tony.

Of course it's Tony.

He's standing on a table and there are two holographic projections on either side of him. His hair is an absolute mess, pulled in all directions, and Pepper notices immediately both the faint blue glow in his chest, visible through the thin fabric of his grey tank top, and the missing sunglasses. His vivid eyes dart from one holographic column to the other, where he points at one and gestures at the other.

Pepper has to force herself to focus on the holograms for almost thirty seconds before she realizes what he's reviewing. At first she thought it was the arc reactor, but he'd already brought that to them once Obadiah was in jail. No, this list was newer and only somewhat familiar.

It was the huge list of tech that Tony wanted to show off at the Expo.

Pepper wanted desperately to rub at her temples but it doesn't do well to look weak or frustrated with what's going on, especially once she can see the faces of the scientists gathered around. They're gaping at his work, at him, watching with rapt fascination as Tony works through the tech with displays on the left and specs on the right. Pepper only wishes he didn't look like he'd just spent god-knew how many hours in his own workshop, but she can't have everything and at least he's not calling everyone idiotic and strutting around actually naked or something.

She manages to get next to Kanti with a little work and touches the woman's arm.

Kanti struggles to look away, but once she recognizes Pepper she becomes successful in her attempt to regain her self-control. The two of them back out of the group and back towards the bottom of the stairs.

"I got your message," Pepper said, "I came here as fast as I could."

"I might have overreacted, Pepper. It's just that he climbed onto the table and said it was time for show and tell, except he was the only one who brought anything," Kanti muttered. She pressed her hand to her forehead, looking guiltily at Pepper, "For a horrified moment, I thought he was drunk and was going to striptease."

Pepper stifled a laugh, "Believe me, a couple of years ago and you probably would have been right on the money but after Afghanistan…" she let her voice drift off, shrugging one shoulder.

"You do not have to explain that he has changed. I am not blind," Kanti said, her eyes were on Tony again.

Pepper pressed her lips together, "I keep telling him that he should get his chest looked at properly, he doesn't have to keep that thing in there to preserve his heart but he won't listen."

Kanti shook her head, "The arc reactor is, well yes it is surprising, but at least there is an explanation for that," she reached up with one hand and tapped the side of her head, near her own eyes, "But his eyes. He does not claim to have any better eyesight than when he did before, yes? But something happened to them."

"If he knows what it is, he hasn't told anyone," Pepper replied, "Not me, not Rhodes his best friend, no one. I don't know if he does know, because he was willing to explain the arc reactor, even if he wasn't willing to do anything to fix it."

Kanti shifted her gaze to Pepper, "He did not put it into such words with me," she said. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a little closer to Pepper, "He said it was not yet time to deal with the reactor in his chest. Which suggests...he has something in mind."

Pepper looked at Kanti thoughtfully and then at Tony. He had moved onto the next thing which she recognized was some sort of prosthetic, and he had pulled some hapless but apparently willing scientist onto the table with him to help demonstrate the potential attachment. "He has a lot on his mind," she said, "This whole foray into medical tech… Did you see what he's come up for with the walking braces?"

Kanti nodded her head. "I reviewed the charts that you sent this morning. I was still working on how I would present the information and divvy up the teams when he came in." She pulled out her Starkpad from her lab coat pocket and tapped at it, "He's about a third of the way through the list, now, but hasn't displayed the braces to the others yet."

Pepper watched Tony, who had let the scientist back down and was now talking about neurological transmitters and nanites and the installation of prosthetics. She wondered if he had half a plan on putting actual real life people in these or if he planned on them dumbing them down to get the tech approved for use with the general public.

Though, if she was reading Tony's goals rights, extrapolating a little from his newest research and his experience in Afghanistan, Pepper wondered if he was even thinking about the general public at all or if his attention was narrower than that. His work in prosthetics wasn't the only medical advance he had; there was also the PTSD treatment he'd been devising with the virtual simulator retro-framing glasses and Dr. Samson and there was the body armor of various levels of strength and efficiency. She'd heard him express a wish to design a suit that could withstand an RPG or explosive and, honestly, the thought of making something for that purpose was a little terrifying.

But it was understandable, too. For years Tony had made and sold weapons. The weapons had been used in everything from street gang shootouts to tactical police units to military operations to terrorist organizations. Tony had created a lot of wounded people out there and this, she thought, was just one of the ways he sought absolution. The donations to VA hospitals had been another, though that was far less public.

Kanti's hand touching her own, where she held tightly onto her own Starkpad, brought Pepper out of her thoughts. She met the taller woman's gaze, which was dark and deep and full of a compassion that melted Pepper's heart. Pepper put her hand on top of Kanti's and smiled. "He's changed," she said quietly, "I think it's for the better, too. I think he wants to _do_ better, by everyone."

"The way he talks now," Kanti said quietly, "He speaks not of the future of his tech and his name, but the future of the world. He has laid out the groundwork in so many things but instead of completing them all on his own he has brought them here, to us. He does not seek to solve the troubles of the world himself, nor to get peace on his own." She squeezed Pepper's hand briefly. "I appreciate his generosity, in letting us help him. Many of us here helped make those weapons and the rationale required to go home and put aside our work before was much harder a task than it is these days."

Kanti gives Pepper a little smile, "Once I went home unwilling to speak about work because of how it made me feel, now I must work hard not to speak because there is such a bright future ahead and I can see it so clearly down the road that Mr. Stark has laid before us."

Pepper gave her a warm smile, glad to hear the words. She took her hand off of Kanti's and tucked some of her hair back behind an ear. It was good to hear that the scientists like Kanti were as excited about the new direction of the company as Tony was, as she was. "I think he wants to have most of these designs ready for demonstration at the Expo this year. Do you think you and your teams can handle that?"

Kanti gave a sharp nod, a fierce look of pride crossed her features as she looked out at the gathered scientists around Tony. "It is what Mr. Stark expects of us, is it not? We will accomplish everything that he asks of us, so long as he does not expect us to replicate his genius. In that aspect, we can only look on in awe."

Pepper laughed softly. Not softly enough, it seems, for Tony to miss.

He stopped in the middle of his speech and looked up, as if seeing her there for the first time, "Pepper!" he exclaimed.

Pepper put up a hand, "Don't let me interrupt you, Mr. Stark. Everyone seems very engaged in your demonstration, and if we are to have these items ready for display in time for the Expo, they will need the rest of your descriptions."

There were a couple of owlish blinks and whispers and Kanti looked sternly at her scientists. "Yes, you heard Ms. Potts correctly. Listen well to Mr. Stark and make a short list of which projects interest you the most. We will need to get everything ready for the Expo and which is sooner than you expect. It will not be easy, but creating the future we wish to live in will be worth the effort."

Pepper could see the way Tony's shoulders shifted, not dropping but relaxing. There was an ease that filled his body language as Kanti's words straightened the backs of her employees. They looked more determined, less awed, and turned back to Tony while pulling out notebooks and Starkpads, ready to take complete notes. Tony dragged his hand over his face and lifted his hands again.

"All right," he said, "Now that all you chuckleheads are paying attention, let's start from the top one more time. A lot of sleepless nights went into this mess and I don't want to have made Pep mad for nothing," he gave a lopsided grin and flicked his fingers, sending the hologram scrolling back to the top of the list. "Let's get on with it, shall we? We can always sleep when we die."

Then he started again with the new and improved body armor with the scientists taking notes and asking questions. Kanti stayed with Pepper, making her own private observations on her tablet until Pepper's calendar pinged in her notifications and she had to leave the R&D department in the hands of Tony and Kanti.

* * *

Tony looks in the mirror at the dark grey lines that seep under his skin like his body is undergoing a slow motion digitization in a third-rate sci-fi horror. His fingertip runs over the marks near the glowing arc reactor and he sighs. His breath fogs up the glass momentarily and he leans back. The blood poisoning hasn't reached a toxic level, yet, but it's clearly only going to get worse.

He runs his thumb over the tainted skin thoughtfully. Before, his death had been a catalyst for several things; Pepper becoming CEO of Stark Industries, Rhodes becoming suited up with the Iron Patriot and then the War Machine, SHIELD having a leg up on him with secret information and the validation that only a weirdly distant and possibly psychopathic father figure could give.

Tony snorted and reached for his shirt. He tugged it on and headed out of the bathroom. As he did, he heard a soft whisper of a voice, female and coming from the phone he had left beside his bed.

"Father, Fury approaches."

It isn't NOBODY's voice that makes Tony hesitate, although it does always surprise him a little bit when she chooses to speak, it's this new habit of hers that she's picked up. He's less a father and more an inventor or creator, but he knows that NOBODY and JARVIS talk and, well, they both know they can choose whatever they like to call him by. Tony doesn't care, just as long as they are happy and healthy.

"Let me see," Tony said, frowning slightly. The window in his bedroom that doubles as a screen flickered into life. The angle was a little skewed but he tilted his head and adapted to it quickly enough. "Where are they now?"

"They boarded ten minutes ago and are headed out of D.C. on a SHIELD classified transport jet," NOBODY's soft words emanate from Tony's phone still on the nightstand.

"They?"

The screen flickers to other views and Tony suddenly realizes why the first angle was so odd. NOBODY has hijacked Coulson's phone or tablet and was using the camera on the back to view Fury. Now the view is of the front side and Tony can clearly see Coulson's face while beside him, just out of frame, is a shock of familiar curly red hair.

"Jarvis," Tony said as he watched Coulson read whatever was on the tablet. Probably bullshit about him, if he was really on his way to visit him. Tony couldn't help but twist a little smile at that. Without the suit, would he still not be recommended for their superhero group?

"Sir?"

"Clear my calendar for the rest of this week. Tell Pepper to push my meetings for next week. Send Happy a message to make sure the jet is fueled and that I'll meet him at the hanger. I think I'm going to go visit Brucie for the weekend and get around to taking care of this," he tapped the arc reactor in his chest.

"Yes, Sir," JARVIS replied, without even bothering to mention that it was Tuesday and obviously not the weekend.

Tony made a dismissive gesture to the screen and it turned back into a window. "Thank you, Jarvis and thank you, Nobody. Keep an eye on the place for me while I'm gone." He crossed the room and picked up his phone, where a message from NOBODY waited for him.

 _FOR YOU FATHER, ALWAYS._

* * *

"Dr. Banner, Dr. Ross," JARVIS's voice slides through Bruce's concentration and he finds himself lifting his head, glancing up to where he's figured out the camera resides. Across the table and down a few feet, he sees Betty putting down her pen and flexing the stiffness out of her fingers. "Mr. Stark has arrived and will be within the building in a few minutes."

Bruce frowned slightly. "Stark's here? Why?"

"Sir has indicated that he wants to make use of one of his more remote laboratories for, as he put it, more explosive sciencing. He has invited you and Dr. Ross to join him, if you are so inclined."

"What kind of sciencing?" Betty asked, absentmindedly stretching out her wrist and hand, fighting off any potential carpal tunnel.

"Sir has decided to build himself a particle accelerator."

The pen dropped from Bruce's fingers and onto the table with a clatter, "You're kidding me. Jarvis, tell me you're kidding me."

"I can do that, Dr. Banner, but that would not change the fact that Sir has already drafted up the schematics and sent the supplies here and that he, himself, is here to put it together."

"I wondered what all that shit was that came here last month," Betty muttered under her breath. She stood up from her stool and tugged on her white coat to straighten out a few wrinkles. "Come on Bruce, we should stop him from getting himself killed or blowing up the place."

Bruce ran a hand down his face. He wasn't quite sure if he liked Stark that much, but at least the man didn't let things get boring. "All right," he said wearily. "I guess we needed a break anyway."

Bruce tidies up his station, putting his samples back into storage and putting his tools mostly back into place while Betty does the same at her own. She fiddles with one of the modified incubators, checking briefly on the cultures there before she heads up the stairs and out of the lab. Bruce follows her, wondering what kind of madness got into Stark this time.

Stark had other labs all over the country, but he only seemed do do the craziest shit here, in Colorado, with Bruce three doors down and the nearest hospital several hours away. Not that the clinic at the base of the mountain wasn't up to snuff for the town's needs, but there were only a couple of hundred people who lived there and they weren't really equipped to handle a major crisis.

They followed JARVIS's direction to a large room on the edge of the facility. It was one of the few labs that opened up to the parking lot and out to the road, which is why it was where they usually took in large deliveries or where Stark preferred to work. The last time Bruce had been in the room, he'd seen two cars along one wall- both of them half assembled- and the delivery guy had been unloading half a truck's worth of boxes.

Now, when he opened the door for Betty and followed her in, he walked into a brightly lit room that had the cool air of the mountain coming in through the open doors. Stark was digging through the boxes, music playing over the speakers and he'd already abandoned his outer shirt, leaving himself in the sleeveless piece that showed the bright blue glow of the arc reactor in his chest.

"Brucie-bear!" Stark cried as they walked in, "Betty-dear! My two favorite biochemists. How goes the serum work? Any luck yet?"

"No," Betty replied, already crossing the room with her hands on her hips. Bruce wasn't exactly sure where she got the gumption to be in Stark's face but he was glad it wasn't him who had to get after Stark. It was easier to keep calm these days, what with not having to hide and being with Betty, but Bruce still wasn't over how chummy Stark acted with him and how stupidly fearless he was of the Hulk.

"Which you should know considering we sent you a brief just yesterday." She stopped several feet away from Stark, who paused in his unboxing to talk to her. He wasn't wearing shades, Bruce noticed abruptly. And it was only because the room was so well lit that Stark's eyes didn't glow, at least, not that brightly.

"Ah, well, sometimes breakthroughs happen quickly!" Stark said, "Better luck later. Have you come down to join me in my sciencing?"

"Jarvis told us you're making a particle accelerator," Betty said, "What the hell for?"

"For science!" Stark replied, "And inventing! I think I got a good idea on this one and I wanted to give it a go!"

"And what if you give it a go and something goes wrong? What will you do then? This isn't all fun and games, Stark. This is dangerous!"

Stark shrugged and dug back into the box. "I made one before and that was with whatever shit I had lying around in Malibu. This one will be better, safer, no threats of tasing and no weird pseudo-government agents babysitting. Then everything will be cool again and I can get back to work on the Expo shit." he opened a box and hauled out some equipment.

Betty half turned to Bruce, her face disbelieving as she gestured to him.

Bruce sighed. "Stark, what are you trying to make?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Stark said, pulling out a box cutter from somewhere and digging into the next cardboard box. "I'm creating a new element."

Bruce pushed up his glasses with both hands, this, this right here was the one reason he regretted signing that contract. Stark was certifiably insane, he had to be. "You can't just- It doesn't work like that- Stark-"

There was a metallic thump as Stark put some tubing down beside himself. Bruce looked at him and then blinked as Stark pulled his shirt up, baring the arc reactor in his chest. Immediately, Bruce took two steps forwards, eyes drawn not to the reactor but to the thin spider webbing of something grey on Stark's skin. Betty whispered something intelligible under her breath and reached up a hand, but she was too far away and she dropped her hand quickly enough.

"The core that I'm currently working with isn't exactly playing nice with my body chemistry," Tony said, "So I came up with something new that will fix it." He dropped his shirt down, patting his chest like he hadn't just bared his chest, his heart, his secret, to the two of them. Tony shrugged nonchalantly, "You can either help or just observe or go back to your own stuff. I won't be offended. I know you two are working hard on a cure."

"What is that doing to you?" Betty asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Not yet," he said, bending over and digging through a box. "And what do you think? It's killing me of course."

Bruce saw the way Betty's hands tightened up and her shoulders pulled in. He winced preemptively as she closed the distance between herself and Stark. She grabbed him by the shoulder, leaning down as she urged him to straighten up, "It's killing you? What do you mean it's killing you? Who have you seen about it? What's the diagnosis? Mr. Stark-"

"It's basically like a kind of heavy metal poisoning," Stark said. He nudged her arm with the back of his hand but he didn't push hard enough to dislodge her. "Once I switch out the core of my current reactor with this new material, it'll be fine!"

"Prove it," Betty said, which made Stark's eyes widen. "Show me the math, prove it to me. And if it's good, I'll help you make the thing. We both will, right Bruce?"

She looked over her shoulder at Bruce and his heart did a sideways lurch. She had a tightness about her eyes that spoke of her fear. He figured, if Stark died, they probably wouldn't have their protection anymore which was a good reason to try and keep him alive. But this was Betty and she was more than that kind of self-serving belief. Betty was grateful to Stark, for the offer of a job for them both, for the protection, for the damn zen garden. Whether or not she liked him much, she wouldn't want him to die doing something stupid.

"Show us the science, Stark," Bruce said quietly, "And if it's good. We'll help."

"Huh," Stark blinked at them. The startled look made his eyes seem less alien, somehow. Then he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at it and muttering, "Didn't have to show anyone last time… But I guess…" He turned and pulled away, moving with the kind of absent-mindedness that Bruce had seen only when Stark was deep in thought at his work. It was another kind of vulnerability, much like baring the reactor and showing the poison in his blood, except this one made Bruce feel kind of guilty.

He was always aware of Stark, was never quite able to fully sink into his work with the man nearby but Stark was able to do so near them. He trusted them. Trusted them to not take advantage of his distraction. Trusted Bruce not to rage and destroy him or his work.

"J," Tony called out to the room. "Pull up the schematics for that expo display from my old office set up? And all the accelerator stuff too." He flicked a smile to Betty and a wink to them both, "We've got plenty of time to go over the science before we put it together. I'll be here all week."

"Don't you have a business to run?" Bruce asked. He couldn't help but shake his head, not in the least surprised.

"Pepper knows where I am and besides, the department has their hands full," Tony waved his hand dismissively as he walked towards the wall where JARVIS had brought up the displays. Betty was following him and Bruce behind her. He snagged a chair for them both and wished he'd brought something to write on as the wall filled up with information. "This is… more a vacation from Malibu than anything else. Had to get some of that mountain air, recover my health, blah blah blah, now, pay attention because I kind of didn't write down every step and I'd like to get to the building part asap."

Betty settled on the chair a little bit away from Bruce, leaning forward slightly with visible interest. "We're ready, Stark. Go ahead."

Stark gave them a smile that made his orange eyes flash and turned around, first to the display. He cleared his throat and then he began to talk. And talk. And talk. And bring up displays and models and numbers and talk some more.

Before long, Bruce knew in his gut that the science was sound and that he and Betty were going to be spending the rest of the day building a particle accelerator.

What the hell had his life become?

* * *

Bruce came back from the kitchen with sandwiches for the three of them to find Stark shifting part of the coil while Betty tested the level of the coil at a different point. As he crossed the room, Stark lowered the machine he was handling and pointed an accusing finger at Bruce, "You! Betty tells me you refuse to wear the pants I made you! You should at least try them on!"

Betty gave him an apologetic look. She had taken off her lab coat and had her sleeves rolled up on her blue button-down underneath. She had a bit of oil on her cheek and more on a hand that she wiped off with a cloth that she pulled out from her back pocket.

"I'm not wearing purple pants that say _juicy_ on the back of them in green sparkling letters, Stark," Bruce replied as evenly as he could, putting the plates down on the tower of boxes that was doubling as a sort of table. Every actual table had bits of machinery strewn about all over. "No matter how comfortable they appear to be."

"But they stretch!" Stark said as if that was a good thing. "I mean they _really_ stretch, but I don't know yet if they stretch enough, you know?"

Betty was giving him a weird look as she walked over to the food. Bruce caught her eye and she rolled hers. "Apparently," she said, "He made them out of some sort of durable, super stretchy material in the hopes that you can keep modest when, well you know."

"I just think that Big Green might want to keep his Little Green to himself. Just because he's got a shit vocabulary doesn't mean he doesn't have any body issues." Stark said, tossing a screwdriver over and over in his hand, "I mean, eventually people will get used to the big green part and start to wonder if it's sort of his thing to go nude too."

"I-" Bruce was at a loss for words. This was exactly the kind of thing that Stark did that made him utterly baffling. There just wasn't any proper rational fear in the man. He didn't even think of the Hulk as a monster in any sense of the word. It was like they were talking about Bruce's sibling or something, not the monster that had almost broken apart his whole world. "What part of I don't want to become that creature ever again do you not understand, Stark?" Bruce felt emotion rise in his throat and threaten to choke him. Stark stopped tossing the screwdriver but didn't reply.

"What do you think the point of my research is, huh? I'm trying to get rid of that thing inside of me. I don't want to play dress up with it!" Bruce abruptly closed his mouth and breathed out through his nose, trying to dispel his growing anger. Betty ran a soothing hand across his shoulder and Stark just stared at them with those glowing orange eyes.

 _Inhuman,_ Bruce thought, _he's lost something human in him, to have eyes like those._

"Fine, don't wear the pants," Stark said with a shrug, "But keep them anyway. They were made for you," he made a little circular gesture with his hand, turning the screwdriver with it, "Both of you." He went for the level that Betty had left and began to double check the line.

Betty made an aborted motion to Stark, opening her mouth to call him over to eat, but she stopped when she met Bruce's gaze. Instead, she cupped his cheek with her hand and whispered, "It's all right. He was just trying to help with the pants. He just wants to help."

"I don't need any more of his help," Bruce muttered back, closing his eyes so he could focus on the feeling of her hand on his skin and the smell of her, standing so close. "He's done enough. I don't need anything else."

"Honey," Betty whispered, "I don't think he knows how to stop."

Bruce snorted. She sighed and pat his cheek once more for good measure before saying thanks for the food and picking up one of the sandwiches. Bruce joined her and the two of them ate, watching Stark work, his focus eerily sharp on perfecting the accelerator's alignment.

Bruce had just finished the other half of his sandwich when Stark, standing in the center of his machine, turned his glowing eyes on them again. The remnants of their discussion was gone, replaced with a fierce sort of pride.

"It's ready," he said. "It's time for science."

Bruce brushed crumbs from his hands and his shirt and got to his feet, nodding. He helped Betty get up and the two of them joined Stark for the final step.

* * *

Standing on the balcony that overlooks the front entryway to Stark Industries, Kanti nurses a rich cup of coffee while waiting for the elevator doors to open in front of her. Kanti catches the shine of red hair in sunlight out of the corner of her eye and turns towards it, her heart rate already picking up in anticipation. As her eyes light on said owner of red hair, the fluttering of her heart crashes down in disappointment.

The woman who strides across the floor, red heels, black pencil skirt, stark white button down blouse and a wild but tasteful copper mass of curls, is a pale imitation of Pepper Potts, whom Kanti had hoped to see before heading down to the lab. This new woman walks with a firm sense of purpose, parting the steady tide of Industry employees as they head down the stairs to the doors she just entered. The woman glances down at a watch on her wrist, the face of it turned on the inside and her red lips pressed into a firm, disappointed frown as she notes the time.

Kanti watches her climb the stairs while she sips her coffee. Red Curls must be running late. She didn't carry a purse, just a slim black portfolio type binder balanced in the crook of one arm and against her side. Kanti is momentarily distracted by the ding of the elevator and the movement of other people, however, and briefly loses sight of the woman as she turns to go into the elevator.

Stepping into the elevator with only a handful of others, Kanti looks up in time to see the red-headed woman round the corner of the balcony railing from the top of the steps and realize, as the doors start to slide shut, that she's going to miss her chance to get on.

Instinctively, Kanti reaches out a hand and stops the elevator. She gets a sidelong glance from one of the other riders, a man with a thin face wearing a suit that was just a little too tight to look good on him, but the others don't do anything but shuffle to make space for the addition. Red Curls gives Kanti a slight smile and ducks in quickly. She turns to face the door and whispers an almost breathless, "Thank you."

Kanti retracts her arm from the door and the stiff man in the business suit urgently presses the close door button, refusing to look at either one of them.

"Of course," Kanti murmured back, "We can't have you be late on your first day."

Red Curls blinks a little, surprise coloring her features in an attractive way. Not as attractive as Pepper Potts, but still pretty enough. "Is it that obvious?" she whispered, leaning in towards Kanti.

Kanti gestured to badge clipped to the woman's shirt pocket. "It's against regulations to have your badge on a clip. They are too easy to remove and misuse that way," She lifted her cup to her lips and added quietly, "You only get one reprimand for that infraction before you are suspended from access to anywhere that requires a badge to enter. A second reprimand often leads to suspension of employment and then a termination of employment."

Red Curls' surprise makes her eyes go even wider. Something about the look doesn't sit well with Kanti, but she pushes aside the feeling. Not every red-head was going to be able to hold up to the standards Kanti had from Pepper Potts.

"I wasn't aware," Red Curls said, fingering the badge nervously now.

"It's a recent change," says the man in the too-tight suit with an annoyed sniff, "A company-wide security policy change after that _incident_ with the managing partner. It's a bit of a nuisance, really. The point of the badge is to manage area permissions and allow quick access instead of using keys for everything. The incident didn't even have a compromised badge involved in it. I don't know why Mr. Stark changed everything so abruptly."

Kanti ignored the man. To Red Curls, she said, "You get used to managing your badge quickly enough. It is a small sacrifice to help maintain the security of Stark Industries."

Red Curls nodded to her and removed her badge from its clip. "It seems counterintuitive to hide the badge away," she said, "I thought they were used to identify employees to each other and those without badges weren't employees."

"Even visitors get a temporary badge," Kanti said, "And there's a company-wide monitoring program that makes sure only people who are supposed to be here are here."

Too-Tight made a noise almost like clearing his throat, "It's a paranoid thing to do, but after what happened, Mr. Stark seems well off in being paranoid."

The elevator stopped. Too-Tight Suit gave them a little nod as he stepped out of the elevator, "Ladies," he said in goodbye. Kanti nodded back to him.

Red Curls stepped closer to Kanti, almost too far into her personal space for her comfort, as a handful of new people entered and settled in for the ride. Two of them Kanti recognized from her occasional forays into the IT department. They were in the middle of a conversation on the merits of one movie universe versus another, their voices not annoyingly loud but they didn't seem too bothered to keep talking in the otherwise quiet elevator.

Kanti could feel the anxious energy coming off of Red Curls, but there was something odd to it, odd to the way she stood there, checking her watch and fiddling with the black leather binder she carried. When the elevator stopped again, this time on the research floor that Kanti had intended to depart onto, she hesitated. She stayed. Something in the back of her mind kept her from gently pressing past Red Curls and through the open doors even as one or two others from the back did so.

One cast a backward glance at them but Kanti didn't respond.

As the doors slid shut again, she half turned towards Red Curls, "I am Dr. Kanti Sodhi, by the way. From research and development."

"Natalie Rushman," red lips part in a slight smile, "Hopefully Ms. Potts newest assistant."

Kanti's eyebrows rose, "And you are late on your first day?" That did not bode well for Ms. Rushman.

Rushman shook her head slightly and then reached up to brush the curls that caught on the corners of her lashes, "I wasn't supposed to come in at all today, my first official day was tomorrow, but Ms. Potts called to see if I could be here early. It turns out that Mr. Stark spontaneously decided to take the rest of the week off and she needs an extra set of hands."

Kanti let out a soft sigh, fighting the desire to close her eyes and rub her temples. With that information, Stark's spontaneous show and tell the other day made sense. He wanted to get the ball rolling while he ran off and did some other almost certainly wild and insane thing for a week. She was glad he had, though, because her staff was beside themselves with how much work they had to do to take the refined pieces and dumb them down for the general public. Honestly, a prosthetic that could manipulate even half as well as a normal hand would be better than half of what was out there but Stark had made limbs with so much finesse and detail that their installation almost invariably required some form of neurological surgery.

"Yes," Kanti said with wry amusement, "He does that."

"But shouldn't he be here, running his business? Mr. Stark still is the CEO, is he not?"

"He is," Kanti said, "But it is wise to leave him be and allow him to do what he does best."

Rushman's brows pinched together just enough to show she was confused by Kanti's words. The elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened. Kanti smiled at her and answered her silent question, "Mr. Stark is inventing the future, not like in those cute little cartoons of automated houses and robots, but the kind of future that people like us can only dream of. One of equality and peace, where people do their best to ease the suffering of others and the world unites together in an effort to better ourselves and each other."

Rushman's dark eye flicked to the corner, where she could see like Kanti could, the slight nod of the other passengers of the elevator. None of them moved, though this was Rushman's stop if she was to go directly to Pepper Potts.

As the elevator dinged and the doors began to close, Kanti again reached out her hand to stop them. "Ms. Rushman, I believe this is your stop?"

"I- Yes. Thank you again, Dr. Sodhi." Rushman nodded her head and stepped out. Her red heels flashed in the light as she entered the hallway and strode confidently down towards her destination. Kanti pulled her hand back and watched her go until the doors slid closed and Rushman was blocked from her sight.

* * *

Bruce found Betty out in the zen garden as the last of the sun burned a deep red across the edge of the mountain and the sky turned deep purple above them. She sat on one of the low stone benches, her legs stretched out in front of her and her hands tucked behind her as she leaned back. Bruce came up behind her, his feet crunching softly on the gravel pathway, and he reached out to her, his fingers skimming up her back between her shoulder blades. Betty smiled and tilted her head back, her loose dark hair brushing over his hand and wrist.

Bruce slid his hands over her shoulders, rubbing at them with his thumbs, working out the strain of the day from her muscles.

Betty closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, rolling her head around on her neck until her chin was almost on her chest.

They remained that way as the sun sank fully behind the mountain and the sky turned dark. Only when Betty shrugged her shoulders and started to turn did Bruce lift his hands and stop. She shifted around on the bench and gave Bruce a thoughtful, almost apologetic look.

"Bruce," she said, reaching for his hand. He let her take it, let her slide her fingers between his. "Do you ever wonder what happened?"

Bruce's brows furrowed together as he puzzled her question. He sat down on the bench next to her, never moving so far that they had to let go of each other's hands. "What happened where? To who?"

Betty rubbed at her temple with her other hand and gave him a look that was definitely an apology, "To Stark. In that cave."

Bruce sighed. "I try not to think about it."

"I know, I know, you don't always see eye to eye with him," Betty said quickly, "But that's exactly what I mean. His eyes, Bruce. His eyes. They glow. How do they do that? What did they do to him to make them glow?"

"What good does wondering about it do for us?" Bruce asked back, "He has no reason to tell us and we have no good reason to ask. Our curiosity isn't a good enough reason to probe into a man's trauma, Betty. His eyes glow orange, so what? My eyes changed when _I_ changed."

"If not us, then who? I don't think that he shows just anyone his arc reactor. I don't think he even told anyone about the thing poisoning him except for us!"

"So he's secretive," Bruce said, " _We're_ his secrets too, Betty. He has good reason to keep to himself."

"But you have to admit, there is something there, in his eyes. It watches us," Betty whispered, leaning in, "It watches us with his eyes."

 _Now you're just imagining things,_ Bruce opened his mouth to say but the words wouldn't come out. He swallowed on nothing, thinking about the way Stark's eyes saw into him and through him. He didn't think he'd been compelled by those eyes but he… Stark had known what he wanted. What he needed. Had read the cracks in Bruce's heart that had told Stark everything that he needed to know to sway Bruce to his side and capture him in a way that no one else had been able to do. And people had tried, they always tried to get him, but they always failed.

Everyone but Stark.

He bit his lip and shook his head.

"Bruce," Betty ran her free hand up and down his arm, compelling and comforting, "You know what I'm talking about, right? You've felt it too?"

In that moment, he realized she wasn't so much searching for answers as she was validation. Whatever it was that had made Stark the way he was something beyond them and, if Betty felt even half as unsettled as Bruce did when those eyes fixated on him- He shuddered and Betty's fingers curled around his wrist.

"Yes," he whispered, "I've felt strange, looking into his eyes. There's something...inhuman about them." His lips twitched into a grimace. Stark? Inhuman? That was rich coming from _him._ "But I don't think its malicious."

"No, I agree with you, I don't think it will harm us. I don't think it wants to harm anything." Her eyes were focused past him now, into the oncoming darkness of the night. The sounds of the forest were distant around them but nothing could stop the crickets and frogs and other things from singing in the night. The world around them was ignorant of what they said, ignorant of Stark and his machinations. "But what does it want with us?"

Bruce shook his head, "Betty-"

"What does it want with _Stark?"_ Betty asked and Bruce's words dried up.

With what Stark could do, with what Stark had access to, whatever possessed him or compelled his actions could make him do almost anything. They had built a particle accelerator and synthesized a new fucking element earlier that afternoon and that was _just one afternoon._ Stark was so full of ideas and so loaded with cash and so surrounded by tech and helpers that whatever he wanted to do he did, whatever he wanted to have he got, whatever he wanted to create he could.

"What does anyone want with Stark?" Bruce said tightening his grip on Betty's hand, frowning now, "Whatever they can wring out of his head, of course."

Betty was silent for a long time, her eyes far away, on the stars that were beginning to appear in the sky as the last ruddy red traces of the sun dipped behind the mountain. They were brighter out here than in the city and reminded Bruce of the times when he was out in the woods in South America, wondering if he'd ever see Betty again, wondering if he'd ever find a cure, wondering if he was just going to be Bruce Banner and the Hulk for the rest of his life.

"What do we do, Bruce?" Betty whispered, "How can we help?"

Bruce sighed. He cupped her cheek in his hand, finally drawing her gaze back to him. "We do what we can, Betty. When he comes here for distraction, for help, for science… we do what we can."

Betty sighed, leaning into his touch. She closed her eyes and Bruce smiled at her, brushing his thumb across the soft curve of her cheekbones. "You're too good for me, Betty," he said quietly. Her lashes fluttered and she looked at him with a little smile, "But I'm glad you're with me anyway."

"Oh, Bruce…" Betty inched closer and put her arm around his shoulders. Even though it was awkward to hold hands still, she didn't let go of him. "I love you too."

Bruce flushed and ducked his head. Betty laughed softly, but it was warm and kind and made his chest ache with emotion. She kissed his cheek gently and Bruce closed his eyes.

Betty was far too good for him and this place was too.

And if it hadn't been for Stark, Bruce didn't know where he would be.

So he was grateful of the man and what he'd done, even if, deep inside, where Bruce still couldn't believe in the invulnerability of the Hulk, he was afraid of him. Afraid of what he could do. Afraid of how he could take it all away again.

Bruce didn't think he'd survive, that the Bruce Banner part of him would remain intact if Stark took Betty away from him after all this.


	5. Chapter 5

After they build and use the particle accelerator, Stark gets down to tinkering with his more typical less-likely-to-explode projects and Bruce and Betty return to their own lab. The days pass as they always do for Bruce, a steady routine of morning meditation, meals and working during the day with the evenings spent relaxing with Betty either in the garden or one of the lounges available. Even with Stark there, they don't see much of him unless they cross paths in the kitchen or choose to visit. Bruce doesn't mind the distance and appreciates that Stark's idea of checking in on them doesn't mean sticking his nose into their work.

It's not that he doesn't think Stark can't help or that he's irritating, it's just that the man has lodged himself under Bruce's skin and whenever he's there, Bruce can't fully focus on what he's doing.

Before he knows it, the weekend is here. There's no reason to stop working in the lab- it's not like there are any restrictions to how often they can go down there, and they're the only two who live there, despite the handful of extra rooms available. But Betty insists on taking more extended breaks and has planned for them to go hiking.

As they get ready to head out into the woods behind the facility, packing lunches in the kitchen, Bruce looks up at the sound of footsteps.

Stark waltzes through the room, headed out from the sleeping areas and towards the front of the facility. He's wearing a perfectly tailored suit, black pants and deep red jacket with metallic gold for the lapels. He's foregone a tie in favor of leaving the top few buttons of his shirt open. Stark slows to a stop as he notices them and plucks his shades out of his jacket pocket. "I'm headed out," he said, "You two keep safe and have fun! I'll be back next month sometime to check in on you."

Betty smiles at him, "Enjoy your weekend, Mr. Stark."

"Oh but I always do," he winks and slips on the shades. They're a reflective red with gold accents. Bruce rolls his eyes at how flashy the man is, how flashy he _always_ is, but waves at him in goodbye.

Stark walks away and they hear the front door open and shut for him.

"Ah, the charmed life of a billionaire," Betty said with a grin, "Do you suppose he's off to a fancy party?"

"I'm sure if he doesn't find something, he'll make something. An outfit like that can't go unremarked on," Bruce replied dryly.

Betty laughed and shook her head, "Come on, we're wasting daylight dawdling in here." She leaned over and Bruce automatically closed half the distance by leaning forward to meet her lips with his own.

He didn't care what Stark wore or where he went, but all the same, he hoped the man had a good weekend.

* * *

Lights flash as they always do when the Happy opens the door and Tony Stark steps out into the public.

He lingers by the door of the car and that is enough for the paparazzi to peer around him, anxious to see who he brought with him to Monaco. He's sure that they're expecting Pepper- they always expect Pepper- but the redhead that slips out of the vehicle behind him is a surprise that creates a momentary pause in the lights as people stop to stare.

 _"_ _Tony, I can't make it there and cover the Expo foundation meeting at the same time. You're going to have to go without me." Pepper's words over the phone had made Tony feel a mixture of things, glad but also sad. It was Monaco, after all, and he was sure something exciting would happen._ _"_ _But Pep-"_ _"_ _Don't but me, and don't try to change my mind. I'm sending one of my assistants with you to keep you out of trouble. Hammer already is fuming that we're stalling his application into the Expo and he's sure to be there to harass you about it." Pepper rode right over his words but Tony didn't mind. She sounded a bit like the old Pepper, the one who had become his CEO and the queen of all tech. He liked that Pepper better than the one that had hidden her business acumen behind the faux assignment of his assistant and he knew that this Pepper could easily grow into that strength._ _"_ _Well at least make sure she's pretty," he whined, "And I'll be nice when turning down Hammer."_ _"_ _Good."_

Tony turned and offered his arm to Natasha- well, Natalie as she was known currently. Natalie wore black and gold in contrast to his red and gold, but she wore it well in a dress that showed just the barest hint of breast and a whole hell of a lot of collarbone and throat. A tiny thread of a golden necklace decorated her slender neck, the end of which was a single black opal that drew the eye right back down to her breasts. It was a seducer's outfit, one made to attract the eye to the body and keep it off the face.

Not that Natalie was unpleasant to look at, but her expression was a mask and masks took an effort to maintain. Not only that but there was only so much emotion one could feign before something they didn't want to show appeared in their eyes. It was easier to just keep people from looking at all.

Natalie gave him an amused smile and slid her arm around his. Her hand tucked easily into his elbow, a movement so natural it was as though they'd done it hundreds of times, "You know," she said gently, "I do not think this is what Ms. Potts had in mind when she said to keep you out of trouble, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled his winning smile as they walked up the path and into the party beyond. "I thought she was very clear. You are at my side and I am not in trouble. So far, so good." He kept her close, could feel the warmth of her body against his side.

She kept a smile on her face but her eyes glanced at him and they were not amused. "How will I explain the photographs to Ms. Potts? You are putting me in a precarious situation, Mr. Stark."

Tony led her up the steps, stopping just outside the door, just behind Happy, who was presenting their invitations for entry. "You applied for the job of my assistant before you applied for Pepper's. Don't tell me you didn't think you'd ever end up with your face plastered on tabloids next to mine as my latest love affair even if you never touch my sheets."

Before she could reply, he leaned in and murmured, "If you tell Pepper the truth, she'll believe you. Funny how that kind of thing works when you trust people."

Happy waved them forward and Tony brought Natalie along. Natalie kept her mouth shut but still smiled one last time as Tony bid the photographers goodbye.

Inside the venue, the noise volume dropped dramatically. Tony eased up on how close he held Natalie and she took the opportunity to slip free of his arm. She produced a dark leather clad binder almost out of nowhere and held it tight in her left arm, almost clinging to the persona of an assistant. Tony ignored her for the most part and drifted through the crowd, aimless but moving through with ease and confidence.

It didn't look much different than he remembered, though his sense of urgency at the time had colored things a little harsher and sharper than they really were. He still found the table with the view that he liked and waved over one of the party's attendants, demanding the use of the table. This time, though, he's actually going to enjoy the meal there instead of running out to the track.

His feet find their way to the bar even without his help and he slides up to it with Natalie a half step behind him. She's not quite a shadow, not quite a date and he orders for the both of them. Something light for him, something appropriately girly for her. The bartender gets on mixing the drinks when Tony sees Justin Hammer and, of course, Christine Everhart out of the corner of his eye.

In this time, he's seen less of them both. There's no suit for him to cavort around in, declaring himself Iron Man and the end of all big bad guys so he hasn't ended up on national television sticking it to the Senate and embarrassing Hammer. He also got rid of Obadiah before the bastard could keep selling weapons under the table, preventing Christine from sharing those photos with him at the fundraiser he can barely remember anyway. Christine still looks at him with that hungry reporter's gaze though, as if she's aware that he's ripe for some sort of scoop.

Justin himself has a different sort of hungry look to him. He's not quite searching for validation, but he wants something from Tony. His genius or his gifts or his supposed brilliant upbringing or maybe he wants Natalie who neatly transitioned back into the role of Tony's plus one, not his chaperone or assistant, and takes the drink he gives her with the tips of her fingers and a sultry smile.

Tony didn't pull on the thread that Natalie presented the first time around, at least not seriously, but he's still unwinding the problem that is her loyalties in his head and it's one option he's still considering. Still, he knows how to smile down at her like he wants her and he's been taken in by the tight black of her skirt and delicate gold chain on her collarbones. The red curls that frame her eyes are just as pretty as he remembers them to be.

Justin leans too stiffly against the bar, unconsciously or consciously mimicking Tony's posture, and orders something Tony doesn't bother listening to. He's busy sipping his own drink, something bright and refreshing like a mojito but with a twist that makes it almost sour. He smiles at Christine, engaging with her first just to spite Justin.

"Christine, a pleasure to see you, as always," Tony said, then looked down to Natalie and gestured to the blonde woman, "Natalie, this is that reporter I was telling you about earlier. The one who keeps me on the edge of my seat with every article. I can't tell if she hates me or loves me from her work, but I'm sure I'll glean the truth from her one of these days."

Natalie, brilliant as she is, giggles and greets Christine with a smile and an outstretched hand. "It is so nice to put a face to the name! I'm Natalie. Natalie Rushman."

Christine smiles back, hungry reporter's eyes sliding to Natalie now. "And how long have you been _with_ Mr. Stark?"

The way she says _with_ makes it almost sound like a swear word. Tony sips his drink and lets Natalie find the answer.

Natalie looks thoughtful, tilting her head just enough that the ends of her curls brush Tony's shoulder. "How long has it been since the jet touched down, forty-five minutes?"

"About," Tony said, sipping his drink and watching the interesting shift in Christine's expression. "An hour at most."

"Ah," Christine said, "One of Tony's _infamous_ stewardesses _."_

"Actually," Natalie said with a cheery, helpful tone, "I'm a pilot. _Tony_ just invited me to join him last minute." She smiled at him, "I was just going to have to wait around for him to be ready to head back home anyway, so why not have a little fun?"

"Yes, yes," Justin finally jumps into the conversation, passing a drink to Christine, who takes it gingerly in one hand while he clings to his, knuckles nearly white, "It is all about having fun and all that. But tell me, Tony, you know how much of a party your Expo is going to be. I've heard there will be fireworks and concerts and food and all sorts of swag to bring back, so I have to ask you, buddy, why are you so intent on keeping me out of all the fun and games?"

"Every vendor for the Expo goes through the same vetting process," Tony replied, "Your application is considered just the same as everyone else; quickly and with as little bias as possible."

"Sure, absolutely, only the Expo is coming up pretty quick now and I'd _love_ to make an announcement that I'll be attending and presenting some quality items. Only I still haven't heard back from your _unbiased_ panel of judges." Justin said, expression polite but his tone stiff.

"You haven't heard from them?" Tony said with feigned surprise, "Why, I was sure they would have responded promptly." He shifted and Natalie, reading his body language clearly, stepped with him as he steered their location back to his little table.

Without any hesitation, Justin followed, with Christine just behind him and openly curious. "But they haven't, which really has me worried, Tony, very worried. I'm sure you know how much work it takes to get a product ready for display at an Expo- after all, you're hosting the thing- but I need to be able to talk to my engineers and get them to expedite things if we're to be ready in time!"

Tony nonchalantly put down his drink and pulled out Natalie's chair. She slid onto it with an amused smile as he pushed her in. Justin was too focused on his discussion with Tony to do the same for Christine, who rolled her eyes and continued to listen in to the conversation between the two men.

"Oh I completely understand," Tony said soothingly. He sat down next to Natalie, nearer to the windows and with a better view outside. Picking up his drink again, he said, "Now, I haven't seen what you were submitting for approval to display at the Expo. Can you tell me a little bit about it?"

Justin fidgeted nervously in his chair for a moment before leaning forward and lowering his voice, though it's not like the women at the table wouldn't hear, "Well, truth be told, Tony, there were a lot of people who were surprised and inspired by you earlier this year. That photo you showed of that armor you built? People are wondering if something like that is really feasible, you know? They want to see if it can be built again, but better. You know, not inside of some desert cave."

Behind his sunglasses, Tony closed his eyes. He could feel the heat of the sun on his skin, the grit of sand under his fingers, the burn of hot metal against his skin, sweat and gunsmoke and oil and battery acid- He took in a steady breath and opened his eyes when it came in colder than he anticipated. Afghanistan and Siberia merged inside of his head as some frigid wasteland and desert hell and in the middle of it all were two broken suits- one that served as his frozen coffin and one that had jettisoned him out of the dark and into the sun and sand.

"A modern suit of armor," Tony murmured. "I suppose that is something inspiring, isn't it?"

"Yes! You see it exactly," Justin set down his glass and nodded emphatically. "I have this vision, I'm sure you can relate, Tony, I'm sure you can. I can envision these suits of armor, one for each branch of the military, impenetrable and unstoppable, defending America against all those who would attack her."

"Ah," Tony said. He hated the way Justin kept saying his name like he really thought they were friends or thought he could convince Tony to like him if he kept saying his name often enough. "I see why your submission has been in limbo for so long."

"You do?" Justin brightened, "Well of course you do! I knew that the quickest way to clear things up would be to come to you directly-"

"You're making weapons," Tony said no longer smiling, no longer so friendly, "Stark Industries does not deal in weapons. We are building the future, not a graveyard. I also happen to know that your application wasn't suspended. It was denied. _Because you are trying to demonstrate weapons."_

To his credit, Justin didn't immediately lose his cool. He laughed weakly as if he could convince them, convince himself, that Tony was joking. He put up his hand, waving away the words and shaking his head, "No, no, no, these aren't weapons like you think. They wouldn't be sold to other countries, they'd strictly be in the hands of America. And they're for defense, mostly! They're suits of armor, Tony! Not weapons!"

"A tank is just an armored vehicle with a gun on it," Tony said with a shrug. "Your toy soldiers are the same. They're tools for death and warfare. I refuse to peddle war anymore and Stark Industries will not promote it, especially not in our World's Fair for a Better Future."

"You can't be serious," Justin's smile finally fell. "You really mean all that bullshit? You won't even display this armor for America?"

"It's a weapon. I'll have nothing to do with it."

"But I got the idea from you!" Justin leaned forward, accusingly tapping the table with his finger, "This was all your idea! You built the first suit! You flew, Tony, and then you showed the world that photo and we realized if you could do it, we could do it! And now you won't touch it because maybe it has the potential to be a weapon?"

" _Maybe?_ " Tony mocked, " _Potential?_ I don't care where you got the idea from. I did what I had to do to get out of that cave and nothing more or less than that. Don't drag me into this idea of yours. I will have no part in it."

"Is it true?" Christine asked Justin suddenly, also leaning in, "Are you developing weaponized metal armor suits for the American government?"

Justin floundered, caught between Tony's inflexibility and Christine's curiosity. "Well it's really quite hush-hush, not necessarily a secret contract but we're trying to keep the technology under wraps-"

"Because you haven't perfected it and have no idea how to," Tony said, sitting back. Dealing with Justin exhausted him more this time around than before, "You don't even know how I got my suit powered and there's no way in hell I'll help you make something like that. That kind of thing is dangerous and not to be made en masse and shouldn't be given over to something as biased and untrustworthy as a single government's military."

Justin shook his head, "You would deprive our proud American military the equipment it needs to-"

"Murder innocents? Invade countries? Destroy towns?" Tony interrupted.

" _Protect its citizens_ and interests worldwide," Justin continued, glaring at him. "You'd put so many lives in danger because you don't like being the Merchant of Death anymore? You're just going to get more people killed."

"You seem to have a fundamental misunderstanding of what I am trying to do," Tony said. "Not that I can really blame you. You remind me of myself before I spent three months in that cave. You don't really see the bodies you create. You don't have any idea how much blood is on your hands." Tony gave Justin a smile that was all Siberian ice, "You don't blame yourself for their deaths because without you, surely they would have found some other way to kill each other, wouldn't they? That's just what they do. That's just how people are."

"Wars don't stop because you take away the guns on one side," Justin said as if he had some grand insight, "You're just weakening our guys out there!"

"Don't pretend to not know that the weapons Stark Industries produced, the weapons I made, ended up in the hands of anyone who could afford to purchase them," Tony said with disgust, "Because if you're really that ignorant of the business of weapons dealing then you should know you can only control the weapons you have in your own hands. Once they're sold, they're no longer under your control, but you still are responsible for the people they kill. Maybe not as responsible as those who pulled the trigger, but responsible nonetheless."

"Mr. Hammer has a point though," Christine said suddenly, "Keeping your weapons out of the American military has only weakened them. Your tech was a huge advantage that did save many American lives."

"American lives are not the only lives of value," Tony said. Justin blinked at him, opening his mouth as if to argue and then thought better of it. "And I want to be clear, I'm not just removing my weapons from American hands. I'm taking them from everyone. Apparently, I wasn't clear enough about it the first time," Tony reached up and removed his sunglasses. He met Christine's gaze, watched her eyes grow wide and her face become pale. "I am not just taking away my weapons. I'm going to take away the need for weapons. I don't think anyone should have weapons like the ones we've been making for war. No missiles. No tanks. No bombs. If you want to kill someone, you should have to do it the old-fashioned way, with your bare hands and a knife."

Christine said nothing, just stared at his eyes, for once speechless. He wanted her to understand. He wanted her to believe him. He wanted her help in getting the word out, in changing the future, in educating and informing others. He wanted her to believe him. Christine suddenly shuddered and dropped her gaze, bringing her drink to her lips with a shaking hand.

Justin was the one who spoke the question he knew burned in them all, burned inside of everyone, once they saw his glowing eyes.

"Shit, man," he whispered, "The hell did they do to you in Afghanistan?"

Tony slid his glasses back into place on his face and shrugged, "When you spend three months in a cave, one shorted-out battery away from death, you gain a little perspective."

"I-" Christine set down her glass too loudly. She stood up suddenly, looked at Justin, looked at Natalie, her eyes skirting past Tony but unable to settle on him. "I- Sorry. Excuse me." Then she turned and walked away, too fast for it to be casual, to slow for it to be called fleeing.

Justin looked torn looking after her, after all, he'd brought her over with him. There was an interview, or at least that's what Tony remembered from before. Their conversation had derailed that somewhat. But Justin looked back at Tony, saw his expression and said a hurried goodbye as well before he went after Christine.

That left Tony with Natalie at his side.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, slumping slightly, "Oh god, she's going to put all of that in her next article for sure."

"If you did not want her to hear it and write it, why did you say it in front of her?" Natalie asked. "She is a reporter. You know that."

"Yes, but Pepper hates it when I just talk to people like that without a heads up." Tony muttered, "Plus I went and showed them my eyes and that's going to be a whole damn thing all on its own."

"If I may ask…" Natalie let the words drift off to silence.

"You can ask, but I can't promise you'll like the answer," Tony replied.

She gave a little nod, "What happened to your eyes? Why do they… glow like that?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Tony said, "Woke up in the desert, eyes hurting like hell and didn't even notice until they'd dragged me into medical and someone showed me in a mirror."

She frowned slightly.

"Told you that you wouldn't like it. They don't do anything special, either. Just glow ominously."

She nodded. After a moment, she drew out a phone and unlocked it with her thumbprint. "I can inform Ms. Potts of the gist of your conversation so at least she can be aware before it hits the news cycle. Shall I include that you formally rejected Mr. Hammer's application to display his works in the Expo?"

"Oh definitely. That bastard can go eat a bag of rocks if he thinks I'm going to let him fuck up my Expo with his war toys," Tony said with pleasure. As he set down his now empty drink and considered getting up to get another- the alcoholic content in that one had been so low he could barely feel it- his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Unobtrusively, he pulled it out and unlocked it with his fingerprint and a code. There was NOBODY's typical black screen and white text, interspersed with the occasional emoji from him.

FATHER, SECURITY CAMERAS HAVE VISUAL ON I.V. ENTERING THROUGH A BASEMENT ACCESS TUNNEL.

HE IS DRESSED AS A SERVER AND IS CURRENTLY INFILTRATING THE BUILDING.

Tony texted back the single eyeball emoji and NOBODY complied with the wordless request. She sent several stills from the cameras, each a progression from the last, showing Vanko arriving on the scene and walking right in. He'd cleaned up, pulled his hair back and looked almost like he belonged, if not for his intense expression.

He sent another emoji, a thumbs up, and then turned off his phone's screen and slid it into his pocket. "Ms. Rushman," he murmured to her as he pushed his seat back, "I'm going to get a refill from the bar, would you like something?"

She glanced up from the phone where she was composing a message to Pepper, almost certainly one that had more detail in it than Tony would ever give to Pepper, and tapped the side of the glass he'd gotten for her before. "Another one of these, thank you. And keep out of trouble. If you are gone for more than ten minutes, I will come after you."

"Out of trouble, back in ten, got it," Tony said with a grin. He left the table, weaving his way through the crowd that was only growing more substantial as they got closer and closer to the beginning of the race. Tony felt his heart rate rise as he worked his way through the crowd, pass the bar and towards a somewhat darkened hallway. The restrooms were that way, if he remembered rightly, and just out of sight of the main room so to allow those using them the utmost privacy.

Every time he'd met Vanko in the past it had started with violence and ended with incapacitation. The first time Vanko had been arrested. The second time he had died. Tony had only been able to look up information about the man after the fact, after it was too late to save him or stop him. Even though it had been years ago, the important parts were still there. Vanko's relationship with his father and his reaction to his father's death. Vanko's intelligence and skill and adaptability all speaking to a strong core. If Tony could simply dissuade him from his course, to change his fury and negate it somehow, Vanko would be an incredible help in Tony's plans.

He wanted to save the man, wanted to give him the life and second chance he deserved. Vanko was his equal in many ways, but in one specific way, Vanko could do what Tony could not.

Both engineers, both skilled in math and physics and a broad spectrum of scientific topics, both mechanical geniuses and determined once they were set on their path- the thing that Tony needed most from Vanko relied more on the man's desires of the heart than his mind. Vanko had tried to get into space- had sought the training and had been denied because of his father, just one more thing Howard had stopped from happening.

But still he had trained and he had applied and he had wanted it. When Vanko could not get into the space program as an astronaut, he applied to be an engineer, a technician, anything, just so he could be involved with the program. When Vanko looked to his future, he looked to the stars.

Tony needed someone who could do that, who could devote their attention to what lay beyond the atmosphere of Earth because he could not.

The stars made it hard for Tony to breathe. The stars made it hard for Tony to think.

So he needed help.

And Vanko needed to be saved.

Which is how he ended up waiting by the temporarily empty service access down the hall and around the corner from the main room, near the bathrooms. This hallway was narrower and fed into the main hallway from the basement access below. There was a service door at the end of it, which swung open nearly silently as Tony stood there, watching it, waiting.

Vanko took one step outside of the door and stopped, immediately seeing Tony waiting at the other end of the hall, thirty feet away. Tony saw the tight rage on the man's face and his heart jumped in his chest. He flexed his hands, really wishing for his suit for the first time since he woke up. He felt vulnerable wearing only his slick outfit and a plain watch, standing alone from a man who wanted nothing more than to kill him.

The good news was Vanko hadn't done what he'd done before. There was no metal contraption around his chest or whips powered by a reactor on his own chest. Vanko hadn't had to compensate for Iron Man's suit because there was no suit. There was no Iron Man.

There was just Tony Stark.

Vanko watched him. He reached for his side and drew out a knife. It was longer than Tony would've liked to see and he had no doubt it was sharp.

Tony let out a slow breath, trapped somewhere at the back of his lungs. Tongue-tied, he worried his bottom lip, searching for the right words. He hadn't really thought through what it must look like, to have him just standing there, waiting for Vanko.

He wasn't even supposed to know who Vanko was.

"A pity," Vanko suddenly said, his accent thick. He took one slow step forward and then another, moving with both suspicion and measured control.

"What is?" Tony asked, standing there and waiting.

"This," he gestured between them both with the knife. The blade was dark and looked serrated on the back. A hunting knife then? "I hoped to kill you among the eyes and the lights. To show that Tony Stark bleeds like every man when you put a blade to his belly."

"Ah," Tony's head bobbed in acknowledgment. "I see. Sorry about that, but it's a bit hard to talk freely when everyone's staring." He gave a little smile, "No one appreciates it when you chat with your would-be assassin instead of, you know, trying to get away or something."

"Your apology means nothing to me," Vanko said softly, "You have done too much to be forgiven."

"I know," Tony said with a sad smile, "But if I didn't try to fix it, I wouldn't be me." He shrugged his shoulders, eyes not watching the blade as Vanko walked closer, eyes on the man's face. He tried to keep in mind how long they were there, to keep it under ten minutes. Natalie would attack first and ask questions after- if she asked them at all- and Tony couldn't risk spooking Vanko with a Widow just yet.

"I've got a lot to make up for, it's true," Tony continued, "Unless you mean to your father, in which case I've done all that I can for him. After all, by the time I figured it out he was already dying, no? And it's not like I can go back in time and stop Howard from doing what he did, can I?"

Vanko stopped. His eyes narrowed. "What is this that you say of my father? What have you done to him?"

" _For_ him, not _to_ him," Tony clarified. "And his name is on the patent. For the arc reactor." His hand instinctively rose halfway to his chest before he forced himself to drop it. New core or not, it was still a vulnerable spot for him. Maybe Vanko would change his mind about the stabbing and be more inclined to pull an Obie and just take his heart out via removal of the reactor.

Vanko closed the distance quickly. His hand gripped the front of Tony's jacket, curling in his lapel and stretching the cloth forward as his knife came up. Tony instinctively put his arm up to deflect the knife from his throat and ended up with it pressed to his collarbone. He felt the hard edge of the blade bite through the cloth but not with enough pressure to break the skin below, yet. Vanko turned and shoved him against the wall.

Despite the disparity in their upbringings, Vanko was taller and stronger than Tony, his muscles hard and wiry. It wasn't as though Tony was weak, either. They were similar in this way too- muscle built by the hauling of machines and workshop labor, muscle toned with weights and physical training. Vanko had half a head on Tony in height, but he was still just human. Tony could have done more, fought more.

But that wasn't the point. He wasn't Iron Man anymore. He didn't have to solve his problems with a repulsor to the face.

"Explain yourself," Vanko said, leaning his weight on his knife arm. Tony grunted. The pain of the blade was equally as uncomfortable as the way his arm was pressed to his chest, but he did what he was asked to do. He explained.

"I don't know all of the details of what happened between your father and mine. The official record states that Howard found your father selling secrets to the Soviets back in the day and that because of that, Howard got him deported. Whether or not he was telling the truth, I have no idea and frankly, I don't care much. Howard did a lot of shit to get things done and I wouldn't put it past him to kick out a fellow scientist over false espionage charges if the other guy was getting in Howard's way. He used to chuck stuff at my head whenever I got in his way and I was his damn kid, so maybe I'm biased, but whatever."

Tony took in a shaking breath. Vanko's expression hadn't changed at all. The knife still dug into his collarbone. The blade so close to his skin he could almost feel it.

"But what I do know is true is that your father helped design the arc reactor. He did at least half of the work, maybe more, but I never pieced that together before I got stuck in Afghanistan. It didn't really matter to me before then because it was just some stupid thing Howard could never get to work. Except then I was in a cave with this other guy, Yinsen, and a hole in my chest with a battery strapped to it. I built a reactor out of scrap parts in a cave lit by one dingy light and stuck it in my chest. I should've died. If not from the actual fucking shrapnel than from infection or something. It was a mess. A fucking mess."

Vanko's eyes narrowed. He pressed harder with the knife. Tony talked faster.

"So when I got back to the states I had to make a patent on the reactor. I do it for everything I invent. I got dozens of 'em and by now my lawyers are really good at putting them together and putting the paperwork through. Except when they went to put in the arc reactor patent, I got one of them sending me a message. He wanted to know why my name wasn't first on the patent. He wanted to know, who is this Anton Vanko guy. Why had no one heard of him? Was he in the cave with me?"

Tony let out a breathless laugh. Vanko's stare was boring into his eyes. He wondered if the orange bothered the Russian. It bothered everyone else, but maybe it wouldn't bother Vanko as much because, if Tony was right, the orange light had come from Siberia. Maybe he could feel the Russian in it. It was such a wild and useless thought that Tony shoved it back and away.

He had to get back to the story.

"This was the first patent in a while they had questions about. Three names on the patent and mine was only second. There was a lot of confusion about the rights, too, because normally it just goes to Stark Industries, but not this time, not all the way. I only gave them the rights to use the tech while I'm alive. Once I die, it defaults to the last name on the patent." Tony cocked his head to the side and grinned, "To one Ivan Vanko."

The pressure of the knife eased. Vanko leaned back, staring down at Tony as though he had transformed into something right in front of him and Vanko was stuck figuring it out. Tony could see him working through it logically. Driven by vengeance to get here, Vanko had given up a lot to do it and had done it in a methodical way. He wasn't lost to his rage the way Tony had been afraid he might be.

"Your American patent means nothing to me. I build reactor if I please. I have the plans for it and do not need your permission."

"Yeah, true," Tony replied, "But American government and American businesses listen to American paperwork and that means they can't build reactors when I'm gone. Unless we both die, I guess, then the default is probably back to Stark Industries or the patent is released or something."

"So best choice is to kill you right now, just as planned, and American company no longer has arc reactor," Vanko said with a little nod. He drew back the knife from Tony's collarbone. Tony reached down and grabbed his wrist, just barely holding Vanko back from plunging the blade into his side.

"Actually, actually, wait a minute, your best choice is something else, Vanko, listen," Tony spoke quickly. Vanko grunted as he pressed harder. Tony felt the blade cut through his jacket, again, and to his shirt and undershirt, "Buddy, listen, I have a way better alternative than killing me, trust me, you're going to want to hear it." His breath hitched as he felt the sting of metal on his skin.

"I do not trust you, Tony Stark," Vanko said with a grin. He leaned into his grip on Tony. The blade drew blood. Tony could feel it begin to spread on his side. "Nothing you say can change that."

"I want to give you a workshop," Tony said, talking quickly like he had before. "A workshop so you can help me with this project. I need your help, Vanko, because you're the only one who will get it. Who can help me build the reactors and who is allowed to build the reactors and help me build the shield? We have to get something into our atmosphere as soon as possible because shit is going to go down, listen to me Vanko. There's an army coming and I'm not going to be able to drive a warhead through a portal again to stop them. We need to get the Earth defended as quickly as possible and I need someone in charge of that and I want that person to be you. Vanko, Ivan, come on, I know you want to get into space, I read all about how they refused you on bullshit grounds. Well, I can get you up there. I can do a whole lot more than that, in fact, but you have to not kill me and you gotta work _with_ me on this one, please."

The pressure of the blade eased, "You babble nonsense," Vanko said, "Explain."

"It's probably going to take longer than the time we have right now to explain," Tony said. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket with his free hand and pulled out a slim business card. "I don't have much more time before my guard gets here and I really, really don't want to have to bust you out of jail, okay? So take this," Tony flourished the card and then slid it into Vanko's pocket. The man narrowed his eyes at him but didn't stop him, "And call me when you're somewhere safe. We'll meet up again and talk."

Vanko's expression showed nothing as he thought about Tony's words. Tony hoped he'd said enough to interest him, truly, and not just to lure Tony away somewhere to stab him and leave him for dead there instead of here.

Tony never got his reply because there was the soft sound of footsteps and he glanced over to the entrance of the hallway. His eyes widened as he saw Natalie striding towards them, her eyes focused on Vanko and a knife in her own hand.

Vanko's gaze followed Tony's. He spat out what had to be a Russian curse and shoved with his arm.

Tony let out a breathless gasp as the length of the blade in Vanko's sank into him. There was a brief moment where he was glad it was his right side, not his left because it was too high for his intestines and too low for his ribs. His liver, the poor, abused organ, was the target of Vanko's stab. Vanko pulled away and Tony let go of him so he could.

Natalie picked up her pace but as she grew closer, Tony lurched for her and grabbed her arm. She hissed at him, "Stay down and let me-"

"Let him go," Tony gasped out as Vanko fled back down the hall to the service door. "Let him go, Natasha."

Her eyes widened and he realized too late what he'd said, but there was no turning back the moment. Blood seeped down around the blade that Vanko had left inside of him. His head swam with the pain, but not so badly that he missed the way Natalie-Natasha looked down the hall at Vanko and then back to Tony and, grim-faced, made her choice.

"Stay with me, Mr. Stark," her voice was soft as she stepped closer. Her knife disappeared back to wherever it had appeared from. "We'll get you out of here and to a hospital."

"Jarvis," Tony said, patting for his phone at his side. Natasha had one of his arms over her shoulders and she supported him down to the end of the hallway. He could walk, it wasn't that bad yet, but only because the blade was still in him, holding the wound intact. "Get Happy."

From his pocket came JARVIS's muffled reply, "Already done, Sir."

Tony closed his eyes and nodded.

"You should not have let me let him go," Natasha whispered as they shuffled together down the hallway. He could just hear her under the sound of the crowd. "Two minutes is all I would've needed."

Tony laughed, "Two minutes? Have you lost your touch?"

Natasha gave him a narrowed eye look, all calculation and suspicion and Tony grinned at her. "If you think I don't vet the people who get close to Pepper," he whispered at her, "You're a damn fool."

Natasha's lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't respond, though, just brought Tony forward.

They met Happy right at the edge of the crowd. His eyes grew large and then he glared, at Natasha, "What happened?" He demanded as he went to Tony's side.

"Well I offered him a partnership but he said he had to think about it," Tony said. People were noticing now. They turned and gasped and pointed and stared and one even let out a shrill shout. He ignored them. Natasha let Happy support Tony as she cleared the way for them, her icy glare and fierce expression enough to make everyone pull back.

"Tony," Happy said through gritted teeth, clearly not appreciating the joke. "Be serious for once!"

"I am," Tony laughed. Then he groaned as the blade jolted with his laughter. "Fuck. This hurts. Happy, c'mon, let's get out of here. I'm bored with this party."

"You're impossible."

"I am," Tony repeated. "That's what they always say. The impossible Tony Stark."

He lost track of his steps and surroundings somewhere between the crowd indoors and the one outside that was gathering. Knowing how social media worked, how hungry the world was for exciting, dangerous news, Tony was sure his injury would hit Twitter before anywhere else. He grimaced at the thought, knowing that Pepper was going to lose her shit and the board of directors was going to flip _their_ shit.

He just tried to keep his game face on while Happy and Natasha got him into the back of the car. Natasha sat with him while Happy sped off to the nearest hospital.

Tony sat with his head back, breathing shallowly, his hands opening and closing as fists on his lap. Natasha was one seat away and he could feel her eyes on the side of his head. He ignored her.

Instead, he managed to fish out his phone from his jacket so he and JARVIS could talk more easily together. "J," he said, keeping his breathing measured, his tone even, "Tell baby sis to do Bathroom Protocol on the place."

"Of course, Sir," JARVIS replied.

"What are you doing?" Natasha whispered. Her voice was cold and her expression closed off, unreadable. Tony glanced at her, wondering at her thoughts. Had she gone into this thinking he was all that was in the tabloids and nothing else? Had she finally realized there was more going on, somewhere between the bar and the hallway?

"Protecting my investments," Tony replied, "Preparing the future. Trying not to bleed out. You know, the usual. What are you doing?"

She just stared at him, her face showing nothing but wariness and even after a few seconds that vanished too. He smiled at her. He had missed her, along with the others- well some of the others. In fact, Tony thought he probably missed the most of all the Avengers. She'd been on his side right up until the end, but he didn't blame her for Siberia. That was just Natasha doing what she thought she needed to do.

He reached out and put his hand on her arm, patting it gently. She looked down at his hand for a second before meeting his eyes.

"It's good to see you," he murmured, "You're looking well."

Natasha held very still. Tony pulled his hand back and leaned his head back against the seat. He focused on his breathing. He really didn't want to bleed out and die. He had so much work to do still.

Natasha said nothing, but Tony heard her pull out her phone and begin to tap on it.

As he let his mind drift in order to escape the pain, Tony wondered who she was telling first: Pepper or Fury.

* * *

Ms. Potts, I am not aware of whether or not you have seen the news regarding the incident with Mr. Stark in Monaco. I was busy helping Mr. Hogan with extracting Mr. Stark from the area and was not able to prevent any pictures or video from being taken or uploaded to social media. Currently Mr. Stark is en route to a hospital here. Mr. Hogan is driving and I am accompanying Mr. Stark, monitoring his vitals as best as I can. There seems to be only one injury, a stab wound to his right side, and fortunately, the wound has not bled much. I will update you with his condition as soon as I am able and will stay at his side until otherwise instructed. I apologize for letting this happen, but it appears Mr. Stark not only knew his assailant but used the excuse of getting up to get a drink in order to meet with them. I will not let this happen again. Regards, N. Rushman.

* * *

Director- My cover has been compromised by the target. Unless otherwise instructed, I will remain with the target to monitor and discover how much, exactly, is compromised. -BW 


End file.
